


Braced Myself

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I promise the ending is SO FLUFFY okay?, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Protective Parents, canon divergent from winter break of year 3, every flavor of angst you can shove into one fic basically, it will hurt but then I will make it up to you, see notes for detailed content warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Jack knows better than most, how life's biggest changes come at you hard, fast, and out of nowhere.This time, it starts so small: Bitty doesn't reply to a text.





	1. all I've ever known

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. I started writing this back in November or December for Swawesome Santa.... the only request was for fluff, and THIS is what I came up with. Luckily, at the last minute I got the idea for [JZIAMF](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8910685) and managed to deliver the fluff. This was half-finished and backburnered for a long time, then I mentioned in #antidiogenes that I had it sitting around and UrbanHymnal was all *grabby hands* at the prospect of zimbits angst, so I started working on it again in between other stuff. So blame Urban for this getting finished and posted.
> 
> I don't really _do_ angst, so I guess this is like all the angst I've never written all rolled into one?
> 
> This fic is 100% written, just editing to do. It's around 25K, in either three or four chapters, depending on whether I decide to split the last chapter up, posted probably every day or so.
> 
> This fic is also weirdly autobiographical, especially the second chapter. That wasn't my original intent, it just sort of... happened. I'll say more about it later.
> 
>  **Content warnings:** Jack has an anxiety attack without a rational basis, but then he has more anxiety because something bad actually happens. See end of chapter notes for spoilery details about that. I've already had one person who was not prepared, so PLEASE be sure to read the end notes if you might have a problem with serious medical trauma. I want to hurt you, but not in a bad way. (Or in a sexy way - sorry, this is not one of those fics. Maybe next time.)
> 
> I have done a lot of research on the medical stuff and hopefully will be mostly accurate, but I've erred on the side of being vague over getting details wrong.
> 
> Many thanks to [DoubleNegative](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doublenegative) for being a wonderful beta!
> 
> Title from [_Mine_ by Taylor Swift.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPBwXKgDTdE)  
> 

**Bittle** : I just hope Aunt Connie is ready to mediate any fights that break out today.  
Because I am not putting myself between those two, that's for sure.

 **Jack** : Aunt Connie is your mom's sister, and she's not the one with the jam problem.  
But she is the one who had posters of my dad.  
Aunt Judy is the one with the jam problem, and she's your mom's sister-in-law, married to your Uncle Drew.  
Aunt Marie is her other sister-in-law, married to your Uncle Jimmy, who stays out of the whole jam debacle.

 **Bittle** : Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

 **Jack** : I have no idea how people from big families keep all this straight.

 **Bittle** : Well, most of us have space in our brains for family trees because it's not filled with hockey plays.

Jack was curled up on the couch in front of the fire in his parents' den. He'd gotten into Montreal the day before; the Falconers were lucky enough to not have a game on December 23 this year. He had to get back the evening of the 26th—there was a practice that day, but it was optional, and given that he'd promised to spend some of his break training with his dad the coaches were fine with him missing.

Bitty, unsurprisingly, had a much longer winter break. He'd been in Georgia since the 20th, and wasn't going back up north until just before New Year's. Classes didn't start up again until January 5, but he'd told his parents that the Haus was having a New Year's party—of course, really he'd be spending his last few days in Providence with Jack.

As excited as Jack was to get nearly six days straight together, it was too bad they couldn't see each other on Christmas. They'd actually gotten to spend a couple nights of Hanukkah together, and Jack wished he could be with Bitty for both holidays. He'd grown up celebrating both; since his mother's sister followed her to Montreal after their parents died when Jack was young, they could celebrate Christmas with her side without even leaving town.

Both he and Bitty had family to see, of course, but Jack could easily have spent a day in Montreal to make his grandparents happy with a family dinner and then spend the next day or two in Georgia. Unfortunately, though, it was one thing to justify your college buddy coming to visit for Independence Day—Bitty's parents were sure to get suspicious if they tried the same with Christmas.

Next year, though. Bitty was planning on talking to his parents about Jack (about them together, about himself) somewhere between Christmas Day and his flight out on the 30th, so next year, one way or another they wouldn't have to hide. Jack also wished he could be in Georgia for that, but there wasn't much to be done about it. If the worst happened, he'd get Bitty's flight changed, pay for his cab all the way to Atlanta if he had to. But they were pretty sure it wouldn't come to that. Bitty was nervous about coming out to his parents, but he wasn't terrified. He had a few aunts and uncles he thought might turn on him, but he was pretty sure his parents, even his father, would be… well, maybe or maybe not okay with it, but at least not angry or hateful about it.

At the moment, Bitty and his mother were on their way to his grandmother's house for their traditional Christmas Eve dinner. Apparently that side of his family got together the night of the 24th, and he saw his dad's side on the 25th. It was around 4pm; they were going early to help with the food, and his dad would be going a couple hours later when the rest of the family was scheduled to arrive. Jack and his parents were heading to his aunt's house that evening, then he'd see his father's side the next day; even without an official holiday to claim, they were getting together because Jack was in town. His family was quite small compared to Bitty's—just the one aunt and uncle on his mother's side, with one cousin in high school, though his father had two siblings who each had kids.

 **Jack** : There is no possible way you have room for your family tree and all those Beyonce lyrics in the space where I keep hockey plays.

When Bitty didn't reply after a few minutes, Jack figured they had arrived at Moomaw's house and he was probably being fawned over too much to send a text. It was supposed to take a lot longer for them to get there, at least another twenty minutes, but maybe traffic was light.

"Jack, come help me out in here!" His mother's voice floated in from the kitchen. Jack shrugged and put his phone away as he got up to find her.

"What do you need?" he asked as he surveyed the ingredients arrayed on the counter. Something full of cinnamon was already in the oven and smelled heavenly—almost as good as Bitty's baking.

"We're supposed to bring a cherry pie and a French silk pie to grand-mere's house tomorrow," she said as she tied on an apron. "C'mon, wash your hands and help me."

Jack frowned in confusion, but went to wash his hands. "I'll probably just slow you down, but okay."

Alicia raised an eyebrow at her son. "You can't tell me you've been dating Eric for like six months and his skills haven't rubbed off on you at all."

Jack shook his head, smiling. "Pie crusts are still a mystery to me, sorry."

"Well, you can use a mixer, can't you?" His mother set a bunch of ingredients in front of him, along with a cookbook opened to the recipe. "You basically need to melt the chocolate, then mix everything together for a really long time, adding the eggs slowly. Not exactly hard."

Jack did as he was instructed, melting the chocolate, beating the butter and sugar together with his mother's purple stand mixer until they were fluffy, adding in the melted chocolate and vanilla, then turning the mixer on and letting it just run, adding an egg every five minutes or so. He had to admit, it looked and smelled delicious by the time he was done. He really wasn't sure he should have a whole slice of something that was almost pure butter and sugar (sure, there were eggs, but those can only go so far), but he snuck a spoonful of the filling before handing it over to his mother and her prepared pie crust.

The whole thing took nearly a half an hour. He pulled out his phone—he usually would have noticed it vibrating in his pocket, but maybe the noise of the mixer had distracted him.

But there were no texts waiting for him. He checked—it had been nearly forty-five minutes since Bitty's last text. Sure, he'd probably been ambushed by well-meaning relatives as soon as he'd arrived, but it was surprising that he hadn't been sending Jack all sorts of messages about what his family members were saying or doing and his opinions thereof.

 **Jack** : Hey, how's your grandmother's house?  
Your relatives must really have you tied up if you're this quiet.  
You'd be proud - my mom just had me make the filling for a French Silk pie.  
I'm sure you could do better, but I think it came out well. I'll send you a photo of the finished product.

Jack spaced out his texts over a period of about ten minutes. By the end there was a knot of worry forming at the bottom of his stomach. Which was ridiculous, of course—Bitty could spend time with his family and not text Jack for an hour. He should.

He just… wouldn't.

Jack pulled up the SMH group chat.

 **Jack** : Has anyone heard from Bitty?

 **Shitty** : Like, today?

 **Jack** : Uh… in the past hour?

 **Lardo** : Isn't that your job?

 **Ransom** : Not like any of us are in Georgia, bro.

 **Holster** : If you can't get ahold of him, I doubt any of us can. Something wrong?

 **Jack** : No, we were just in the middle of a conversation and he stopped responding  
Probably his phone ran out of batteries.

 **Shitty** : I can't decide if it's cute or sad that you're worried when you don't hear from him for an hour

 **Jack** : We were in the middle of a conversation, and you know Bitty doesn't just stop replying to texts for no reason.

 **Ransom** : I'm guessing you're right, his phone probably ran out of batteries.

Somehow, none of this was comforting. Wouldn't Bitty have gotten a warning if his battery was low? He would have mentioned it to Jack; he always did if it was going to cut off their conversation.

He pulled up Bitty's number and called without really thinking about it. He figured Bitty would answer, chirp him for being a worrywart, and let Jack know what had happened to his phone.

Instead, the call went straight to voice mail.

He waited a couple of minutes and tried again.

Straight to voice mail again.

This time, he went ahead and left a message, in case Bitty got a chance to check it before Jack got ahold of him some other way.

"Hey, Bits. I just, um. Couldn't get ahold of you by text? And you haven't responded in a while, so I just thought I'd call. But I guess your phone is off. Hope you're having fun at your grandma's. Love you."

Jack hung up and stared at his phone for a minute. Then he remembered something and scrolled back through their conversation. He stopped about two hours earlier.

 **Bittle** : Sorry I didn't reply 'til now, my phone was charging upstairs.  
Forgot to plug it in last night.

Jack hadn't freaked out earlier in the day when Bitty didn't reply to his texts—but they hadn't been in the middle of a conversation, he just hadn't replied at all. And obviously, Bitty's phone really should not have run out of batteries if it had just finished charging an hour before Bitty stopped replying.

Jack's heartrate picked up and an unpleasant prickling sensation spread over his skin… even though he still felt stupid for worrying.

Just then, his mom poked her head in the room.

"Hey, sweetie, the cherry pie will be out in another ten minutes, and I'd like to leave in twenty." She paused. Jack was still looking at his phone. "Jack? Is everything all right?"

"Uh. Yeah. Yeah." Jack took a few deep breaths, and when he was done his mother was still standing there, probably staring at him. He wouldn't know, because he was still looking down at his phone. "Um. This is stupid. I'm being stupid."

He jumped when his mother's hand touched his arm. She'd been on the other side of the room just a second ago, hadn't she?

"I'm sure it's not stupid, Jack. What's wrong?" She spoke slowly, but not condescendingly. She looked worried.

"I just can't get ahold of Bitty. It's dumb. It's—" He couldn't figure out what else it was.

"When did you hear from him last?"

"Before, um. Before we were doing the pies. We were in the middle of a conversation, he was in the car, on his way to his grandmother's house, and he just stopped responding. And I mean, he must have gotten there, but it seemed like it was way too soon. And since then he still hasn't replied to any of my texts, and his phone is going to voice mail. Anyone else I wouldn't think twice, but…"

"Maybe his phone ran out of batteries," she suggested, sounding eminently reasonable.

"He just charged it a couple hours ago. He wouldn't just stop responding and turn off his phone without telling me." Jack sighed as he ran a hand over his face. "I know, like I said, I know this is stupid. It's ridiculous to freak out because I haven't heard from him in less than an hour and a half. I didn't freak out earlier today when I texted him and he didn't reply until like four hours later. This just… feels wrong?" He looked at his mother, hoping she could provide a reasonable explanation like adults are supposed to do when their children are worried for no good reason. "It's just not the way he does things, you know?"

His mother just stood there, looking at him, and if he weren't freaking out so badly inside maybe he'd be able to decipher the complicated things happening on her face, but as it was he couldn't tell if she thought he was crazy or just felt bad for him or… who knew what.

"You know," she said, still talking slowly like she was weighing her words, "I still have Suzanne Bittle's phone number. Would you feel better if you called her?"

Jack snorted. "I'll feel stupid when she wonders what's so important that I have to call her to get ahold of her son. On Christmas Eve, while he's with family." Of course, the alternative was to work himself into more and more of a panic until he knew Bitty was all right.

"Well, the offer stands," his mother said. She'd barely turned to go when he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he mumbled. "I'd rather feel stupid than have a panic attack."

Alicia's smile was patient as she held out her hand. "Give me your phone."

He handed it to her, and she left in search of her own. Just a couple of minutes later, she was back.

He took his phone back with a grateful smile, and saw that she'd entered a phone number with the same area code as Bitty's. He hit send and braced himself for chirping.

It rang a few times, then went to voice mail. At that point, Jack didn't really care about being polite or looking stupid, he just dialed back immediately. It went to voice mail again.

He didn't trust himself not to sound completely panicked on voice mail, so he didn't leave a message. Instead, he texted her.

 **Jack** : Hi, Mrs. Bittle. This is Jack Zimmermann.  
Sorry, my mom gave me your number. I hope you don't mind.  
I've just been trying to get ahold of Eric and haven't been able to, and it's kind of important.  
And his phone is off.  
Could you please have him contact me when you get this? Thanks.  
Merry Christmas.

In the few minutes it took him to compose all of those texts to sound as not-stupid as they could and send them, he didn't get anything back. No calls, no texts.

He wandered into the kitchen, where his mother was pulling the pie out of the oven.

"Did you get ahold of her, sweetie?"

"No." Jack's heart was hammering, but his breathing was okay. His voice was shaky, though, as he continued. "It went through to voice mail. Not immediately, it rang first, so her phone is on at least. I tried twice, then sent her texts."

He held the phone out to show his mother the texts he'd sent, although he wasn't really sure why. She didn't need to know exactly what he'd written. Why would she care? He was being stupid and she probably just wished he'd calm down.

"Those sound very reasonable," she said. Then she smiled. "You know, she doesn't have to know you're worried about him. You said it's important, maybe you just have something school-related you need to ask him about."

He smiled a little. "I'm sure Bittle will chirp me enough for him and his mother both, don't worry."

"Anyhow, we're leaving in ten minutes, if I can get your father moving. Hopefully either Suzanne or Eric will call you on the way."

He nodded and shoved his phone in his pocket. Ten minutes later they were all bundled into his father's Range Rover, starting the half hour journey to his aunt's house just outside of town. Jack kept his phone out in this hand, resisting the urge to call again or try texting the group chat.

They were just crossing the bridge out of the city when Jack's phone buzzed.

It was Suzanne's phone number on the screen, not Bitty's face. Some of the tension Jack had been holding in his shoulders released—Bitty's phone must have died after all.

He picked up the call. "Bitty?"

"Um, Jack?" It wasn't Bitty's voice. "It's, ah, it's Richard Bittle, uh, Eric's father?" Mr. Bittle's voice sounded rough, and Jack's face went cold as the blood rushed out of it and pooled, swirling, somewhere in his stomach.

"Um, hi," was all he managed to say.

"I saw your texts and that you were callin' my wife's phone, trying to get ahold of Eric…" Mr. Bittle let his voice trail off, and it was all Jack could do to find his own to prompt him.

"Is… Eric there?"

"No, no, he's not, son." Jack couldn't breathe. "Eric, um. Him and his mother were in a car accident this evenin'." His voice was still rough, but had a vague quality, like he wasn't really processing his own words. It was that more than anything that chilled Jack to the core.

"No." It was a simple denial, not forceful or anguished, and Jack wasn't even sure why he said it. Nothing he said could change whatever he was about to hear.

"He's not… he's not doing well. They're getting him into surgery."

Surgery wasn't dead. Jack slumped against the car door, dizzy, as the blood rushed back into his head. He had a hazy thought that he must have been holding his breath for a while, given the stars in front of his eyes.

"Surgery. What happened?"

"I know, uh, all his friends are gonna be worried about him. You let 'em all know I'll get word to you once he's awake, will you?"

"Sir, I'm sorry," Jack barely recognized his own voice as he rushed to keep Mr. Bittle from hanging up on him. "Please, you have to tell me what happened to him. Please."

"Well, uh, he broke his leg pretty bad, but then he's also got some kind of internal injury that's bleedin', somethin' to do with his intestines. I really don't know much more'n that yet."

"Oh, god," Jack murmured. He tried to keep breathing, reminding himself that it was this man's son going into surgery for internal bleeding. "Is your wife okay?" He doesn't even realize he's asked the question until it's out.

"Um. Yeah, yeah. She broke her arm, and she's pretty bruised up, but. Nothin' too bad. Guy hit 'em on the side Junior was on. Well, I should, uh—"

"What hospital?" Jack frantically looks around for a pen, before his mother presses one into his hand. He's in a car with his parents still.

"Excuse me?"

"What's the name of the hospital he's at?"

"Uh, I don't think it's time to start calling or sending flowers or anything just yet—"

"I know. I—I know that. I'm sorry." Jack is pretty sure he should say something more, but he can't think what it is, only that he needs to get to Bitty. "But what hospital is it?"

"We're at Athens Regional." Mr. Bittle is sounding less dazed and more suspicious now. Jack thinks wildly that at least maybe he's providing a useful distraction. His hands are shaking so badly he can barely write the name on his palm. "Why?"

"So I guess that's in Athens, not Madison?"

"Yeah," Mr. Bittle says slowly. "Why, again?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can. It might be a few hours." Jack can do this. He can find a way to get to Georgia. That's a thing he can do. He grabs onto that thought and his head clears just a little.

"Son, I'm sorry, but where exactly are you?"

"I'm in Montreal," Jack says quickly. "Please, could you let me know if you get any more news? I might be on a plane, but if you text I can read them as soon as we land."

"I'm sorry, what? You're in Montreal?"

"Yes, but I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll text this number when I know more details, I know you're busy, you don't really care where I am or when I'll be there, but I don't know, it might be useful. Sorry, I'm babbling now. Please let me know if you find out anything else on his condition."

"All right…"

"Good-bye, Mr. Bittle. I'll see you soon. Hopefully by then he'll be doing much better." Jack hung up the phone, then stared at it for a moment.

"Jack, honey," his mother's soft voice came from the front seat. "What happened?"

Jack's head jerked up. They'd stopped at some point, in a gas station parking lot. His parents were both turned around in the front seat, looking at him, faces tight with worry.

Jack opened his mouth, but couldn't get anything out for a second. He took a deep breath.

"Bitty was in a car accident," he said, switching back to the French he'd been speaking most of the day. He started looking up flights to Atlanta while he spoke. "He broke his leg and he has internal bleeding. They're getting him into surgery now. That was his dad. His mom is okay, she has a broken arm or something, but the guy hit them on the side Bitty was on."

He wasn't really listening to his parents' murmured replies.

"Damn it," he said after a minute. "The last flight to Atlanta with a single empty seat leaves basically now." He looked up at his parents, wondered vaguely in the back of his head what they'd said to him. "How do I charter a flight?"

Given who his parents were, it wasn't like Jack had never been on a chartered flight even before joining an NHL team that leased its own plane, but he'd never had to arrange one himself. He had absolutely no idea how he would even go about it.

"On Christmas Eve?" Bob asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've got someone I can call. You're sure you can't wait until morning? We can get you on the first commercial flight out."

The process of planning how to get to Georgia had pushed down some of his panic, but the thought of waiting twelve hours made it start to claw its way up Jack's throat again.

"No, I can't wait until morning!" He probably shouldn't shout. "He is in the hospital now, anything could happen by morning! What the hell is the point of having a seven-figure salary if it can't get me to my boyfriend's bedside when he wakes up from surgery?"

"Bob, really," his mother admonished quietly. His father shook his head and looked down at his phone.

"You're right, of course, I just thought I'd ask. Not sure I can guarantee a flight right now, you know, and it'll probably cost twice what it usually would."

"Well, as long as it doesn't cost more than my signing bonus, I'll be fine." Jack had sort of been going for humor there, but he knew it didn't sound that way at all. It didn't really feel that way, either.

While his father turned back around to make a phone call, his mother reached back and took his hand.

"Jack, I'm sure he'll be all right," she said quietly, voice confident and soothing. "He'll be glad to have you there when he wakes up. It's good you listened to your instincts."

"Of course he'll be all right," Jack muttered, unable to look at his mother. "He can't… he can't die, he's twenty, he can't—we're not even married yet, he can't die."

He knew it was complete nonsense, as his mother squeezed his hand, but it was comforting nonsense anyhow. A broken leg, Bitty would be out of hockey for a while, possibly the rest of the season. But he'd be able to play the next year. And then he would graduate, and move to Providence, and Jack would marry him, because that was how it was supposed to go.

"Shit." Jack dropped his head against the back of his mother's seat. "His parents still don't know. His father must think I'm a lunatic. What am I going to say when I get there, sure, I'd drop ten grand on a plane flight to see any of my college friends in the hospital?"

"Jack, honey." Alicia's fingers combed through his hair, just like they did when he was little, and he relaxed a little. "You can deal with that when you get there. What they will see is someone who cares so deeply for their son that he'd move heaven and earth to be by his side."

"Or someone who thinks he has the right to intrude on their family's pain, telling them things they already didn't want to know about their son," Jack said bitterly. "God, what if they won't even let me see him?"

"I know I don't know Suzanne Bittle that well," his mother replied, "but I honestly can't imagine her being that vindictive. I don't know her husband at all, and maybe he won't be happy to see you, but you make Eric happy and I think that's really all Suzanne will care about. And believe me, if she's anything like most women I know, given the choice between her husband's happiness and her child's, there won't be a contest."

"Jack," his father said, turning around, "do you want to fly into Atlanta, or would you rather fly into Athens if I can get you there?"

"If there's an airport there, then yes, as close as you can get me."

Bob nodded and went back to his conversation with… whoever it was. A travel agent, maybe? Jack realized that after tonight, he still would have no clue how to book himself a charter flight.

Jack's hands were still shaking, he realized as he looked down as his phone. The panic was starting to give way to a sense of numbness, of unreality. He dug his fingernails into his thigh to feel something besides chilled.

"Okay," his father finally said. "Let's head back so you can pack, then we can get you to Trudeau."

"No," Jack said, sitting up. "I can buy clothes there. Just get me there as quick as possible."

"You need your passport, sweetie," his mom pointed out. "And your medication."

Jack sighed, but of course she was right.

When they got back to his parents' house, he ran to his room and threw a change of clothes, his passport, his phone charger, and his toiletries bag into his backpack. He was back downstairs and ready to leave less than five minutes after they'd arrived.

Half an hour later, he was settled into a private jet, thanking the crew profusely for flying him on a holiday on short notice. He'd already arranged with his dad to get their contact information so he could send them some kind of thank-you gift later.

He pulled out his phone and tapped out a message to Suzanne Bittle's number.

 **Jack** : I'm on a plane about to leave Montreal. I should be in Athens in about 3.5 hours. Please let me know if there's any news.

He didn't have to put his phone in airplane mode, but he knew there wouldn't be a signal most of the time once they were in the air. Hopefully if the Bittles updated him, he'd get it in a timely manner. The plane did have wifi, though, so he switched to the group chat.

 **Jack** : Hey guys  
Bitty was in a car accident  
I don't know all the details but he broke his leg and is in surgery for internal injuries

 **Ransom** : What the fuck?

 **Chowder** : Bitty!!!

 **Lardo** : Shit bro

 **Jack** : I'm on my way to Georgia, I'll let you all know when I know more.

 **Dex** : Fuck.

The chat went on for a couple more minutes, everyone chiming in with their expressions of dismay and support. Eventually, Shitty sent Jack a private message.

 **Shitty** : How you holding up, bro?

 **Jack** : Not great. I'm on a private plane to Athens, GA right now.

 **Shitty** : I'd expect nothing less.

 **Jack** : Also Bitty's parents still don't know we're dating, or that he's gay, and I think his dad thinks I'm insane now because I'm flying down there.

 **Shitty** : Well shit.

 **Jack** : Yeah.

 **Shitty** : That's gonna be an uncomfortable conversation

 **Jack** : So comforting.

 **Shitty** : Hey, it's best to think about it now  
Figure out how to approach this shit  
Have a backup plan if things go south

 **Jack** : *sigh* You're right.

Shitty managed to keep Jack distracted for the next couple of hours, thankfully. When Jack's mind would wander back to Bitty's condition, he'd stop and do some meditation or breathing exercises. For the first time in a long time, he found himself missing Xanax. He wouldn't have taken it if it were offered to him, but he did kind of wish he were slightly less fucked up so he _could_.

Finally, his phone got cell service again just long enough to let some texts through.

 **Suzanne Bittle** : Jack, it's Suzanne.  
Dicky's still in surgery. Don't know how much longer.  
They were worried about sepsis because his intestines were damaged but it sounds like he's out of the woods there for now.  
They say he's stabilized so hopefully it won't be too much longer. They're working on his leg now.  
I'm glad you're coming. He'll be happy to see you.

Jack swallowed and reread the texts. They'd only been sent a little while ago.

That last one could mean anything. Did she know? Did she suspect? She'd have to be awfully naive to think he was really just coming to see a friend, wouldn't she? Then again, she'd been in the car accident, too—even without a head injury, she may be in enough emotional shock to not be processing everything.

Jack really had no way of knowing what type of situation he'd be walking into.

He switched back to the group chat to update them on Bitty's condition. As he read their relieved and happy responses, a rush of warmth loosened the tension in his gut. It took him a minute to realize that it was his own relief—he hadn't even let himself feel it when he'd first read the updates.

Was he focusing too much on talking to Bitty's parents to keep himself from reacting to what was actually happening to Bitty? He didn't want to not feel things about Bitty. But one of those was a situation he still had some control over, no matter how little. He at least had input. It didn't matter how frightened or horrified he was on Bitty's behalf, it wouldn't make his surgery go any better or more quickly.

Letting himself worry about the things he could control instead of the things he couldn't didn't mean he didn't care. He had limited emotional energy, and he was pretty sure that tonight was going to sap every last bit of it. It was just a strategy to make it last so that he had enough to deal with Bitty's condition when it was time to actually do so.

Huh. Maybe all those years of therapy weren't a total waste.

Finally, the crew let him know they were coming in for their final descent into Athens.

When his phone could keep a steady signal again, he replied to Suzanne's texts.

 **Jack** : Thank you so much for the update.  
I'll be landing soon, I'll get a cab straight to the hospital.  
I'm glad to hear the surgery is going well.

Customs was much easier than usual, being on a private jet, so Jack was in a taxi approaching the hospital just a half an hour later. He texted Suzanne again to let her know he'd be there shortly.

Soon he was following directions from the hospital's information desk to the trauma unit waiting area, his heart rate starting to climb again as he went.

He saw Mr. Bittle first, pacing in the hallway. His face was pale and drawn, and he looked ten years older than when Jack had met him that summer. He looked up and nodded to Jack, then looked off to one side, motioning for Suzanne to come out from the waiting area.

Jack met them just outside of the waiting room. Looking in, he could see a couple members of Bitty's extended family whom he'd met in July—Moomaw, Aunt Connie, and Connie's husband, John. He wondered if Bitty's parents had told any of them he was coming.

Suzanne's left arm was in a sling, and the left side of her face was covered in bruising. What wasn't bruised was blotchy and swollen from tears that had already come and gone. She came right over to Jack and pulled him down into a tight hug with her good arm.

"Hi," he said quietly, searching for something else to say.

"Jack." There were tears in her voice as she pulled back from the hug. "This is not how I wanted to see you again, young man."

His mouth managed to twitch into a small smile. "No, it really isn't."

He shook Coach's hand as they nodded their greetings. Where Suzanne was wearing a strained and watery smile, Coach Bittle wasn't bothering to keep the somber expression from his face.

"We're still waiting for word on how the surgery went," Coach Bittle said gruffly. "They said it was going well last we heard, but..."

Jack's stomach twisted, but he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. He knew things could change quickly.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Suzanne said with another tight smile. She was working to convince herself as much as either of them. "And I'm sure Dicky will be pleased to see you when he wakes up, but... I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, Jack, but why are you here?"

Jack had known the question was coming, but he still fidgeted for a few seconds.

"Eric is my best friend. Of course I'd want to be here for him."

Coach sighed. "Son, you just came running eleven hundred miles in four and a half hours flat, at the drop of a hat on Christmas Eve."

"We have had a very difficult night, Jack," Suzanne said, her voice gentle but firm. "Still are, come to that. My baby is still in there, cut open, lord only knows what's happening to him. We would appreciate your being honest with us. Why are you here?"

Jack swallowed, then nodded. These didn't look like people who were about to chase him out of the hospital. It was easier than he'd expected to meet their eyes, tired but not unwelcoming, as he told them, "I'm here because I love your son. Very much. He's the most important person in my life. I couldn't possibly bear to be anywhere else, knowing he's here and in danger."

Suzanne's head jerked in a quick nod as her face crumpled. She slapped her good hand over her mouth, but not before a choked sob escaped.

Coach put an arm around her shoulders, careful of the left side. When he looked up at Jack, there were tears in his eyes as well.

"I'm not gonna pretend like this was my first choice for his life, but I almost lost that boy tonight, and that has a way of putting things in perspective. We're glad you're here for him, son. Our boy deserves someone like that."

Jack couldn't reply for the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Suzanne said, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes. "What you must think of me! I just—I know these things are complicated, but I wish he would have told us."

"He was going to," Jack says, the words spilling out now that he's found something he can say that might make things even a little bit better. "After Christmas. Before he came back up to New England. I... I really hate that I'm taking that away from him."

"No, no, it's good that you're here and that we know the situation now," Suzanne insisted. "I know he's got a lot of good friends up there but it's different knowing he's got someone like that in his life. Who would do this for him."

Jack glanced over to where Connie, John, and Moomaw were watching them curiously. He shuffled his feet a little and leaned in toward the Bittles.

"He, um… I know he wasn't planning on, ah, telling the rest of the family just yet. I mean… I don't think his grandmother or Connie were the ones he was most worried about, but especially since I can't be out, publicly, yet, we were going to take that slowly. I'm not sure I'm comfortable telling them right now without talking to him first?"

Suzanne's brow furrowed as she tilted her head to one side. "They know who you are, Jack. We didn't say anything about you coming, but I'm sorry, they're not going to buy that you flew down here for a friend any more'n we did."

"My mom has family in Florida," Jack blurted out. "Cousins. I could say I was visiting them, so I came up since I was his only friend within driving distance?"

"Where in Florida?" Coach asked.

Jack winced. "Tampa, really, but I could say somewhere closer."

Suzanne sighed. "As much as I'm not a huge fan of lying to my mother and sister, go ahead and say you were in Jacksonville. That's near close enough to get here this fast."

Then she suddenly pulled him into another hug with her good arm.

"Thank you," she murmured into his ear.

Jack shuffled after them into the waiting room and waved awkwardly to the rest of Bitty's family. Suzanne may have become a blushing teenager at the sight of his dad, but she'd always treated Jack like just another of Bitty's college buddies. Connie, on the other hand, was the one who had actually worshipped his father as a teenager, and when Jack had met her in July she'd acted just as starstruck as if she were meeting Bob himself.

So he was only a little bit surprised when Connie stood up immediately with a big smile. She'd clearly been crying at some point in the evening, but Jack was providing a much-needed distraction.

"Jack Zimmermann! I didn't think we'd be seeing you around these parts again. Dicky didn't mention you were comin' in town for the holidays!"

"Oh, no, I was actually visiting family in Florida." Jack managed the lie smoothly, he hoped. "I just drove up because I heard about the accident and I thought Eric could use a friend here."

"Well, that is so thoughtful of you!" Connie patted him on the arm before sitting back down with her husband and motioning Jack toward a seat. "I'm sure he will need a friend, he'll be so surprised."

"Where in Florida did you say your family was, Jack?" Moomaw's smile was kind, but there was a glint in her eye. Jack shifted in his seat. That summer, he'd told Bitty that if anyone in the family suspected what they really were to each other, it was her, and at the moment he wasn't sure he was wrong.

"Ah, Jacksonville, ma'am."

"And how on earth did you hear about the accident so quick?"

Oh. _I know him and his habits better than anyone on earth, so when I didn't hear from him in an hour I had a bad feeling about it and then panicked_ probably wouldn't go over well as an answer.

"I was on the phone with Eric when the accident happened," Jack said, praying that Suzanne hadn't said anything to contradict that.

Moomaw and Connie both gasped, so it seemed Suzanne hadn't gone into detail about what Bitty was doing at the moment of the crash.

Just then, though, a doctor came into the room.

"Eric Bittle's family?" she asked. She wore a slight smile, and Jack sighed in relief immediately as he stood up with the rest of them.

The doctor explained that the surgeon was just finishing up. As far as they could tell, all the damage that had led to bleeding and bacteria leaking into his gut was repaired, and his femur set with pins. She told them that there was still a risk of post-operative infection, both at the incision and where the internal damage had been, but that if he didn't have any problems in the next forty-eight hours he should be in the clear.

The release of tension from everyone's bodies was palpable. Suzanne and Coach asked more questions about post-operative care and his prognosis, and Jack took his phone out to take notes when he realized he'd never remember all the information being relayed. He noticed Moomaw watching him as he did it, but he couldn't really be bothered to care. He needed to take care of Bitty, and if that meant that someone figured out their relationship… well, so be it.

"A nurse will come and let you know when you can go in and see him," the doctor finished up. "Immediate family and significant others only while he's in the ICU, but everyone else will probably be able to see him tomorrow."

They thanked the doctor, and before she was even out of the room Suzanne was crying on Coach's shoulder.

"Thank god," Jack murmured, mostly to himself, although he happened to catch Coach's eye as he said it. Coach gave him a nearly-imperceptible nod.

Everyone collapsed back into the chairs, and the women busied themselves with calling the rest of the family to let them know Bitty had made it through the surgery. That spurred Jack to text the group chat, where there was immediate celebration.

It was only a few minutes before the promised nurse appeared. Jack immediately stood and went to her, along with Coach. Suzanne hung back to give her mother and sister hugs first, promising to let them know as soon as Bitty could have more visitors.

The nurse looked at Jack quizzically. "Are you Mr. Bittle's brother?"

Jack froze. Somehow, his train of thought had never quite made it this far. When the doctor had said immediate family and significant others, he had just been relieved that it included him. It hadn't occurred to him that he would have to explain how that was—or that Bitty's other family might wonder why he got to go in and they didn't.

He stepped a little closer to the nurse, so he could lower his voice enough that the family members on the other side of the room wouldn't hear.

"I'm his partner," he told her.

She nodded with a soft "oh," but also glanced at Coach, clearly looking for confirmation. It was only after Coach nodded that she said, "Well, all right then."

As the three of them started to follow the nurse down the hall, Jack felt a hand on his arm. He turned to find Bitty's grandmother standing there, Connie and John talking further down the hallway.

"You take care of him, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured. "I intend to."

She nodded and patted him on the arm before heading down the hall in the other direction.

He didn't really have time to worry much about what she knew, or thought she knew, about them. Whatever it was, she didn't seem upset about it, so it was probably fine.

As Jack walked down the hallway with Bitty's parents, the nurse prepared them.

"He'll probably come out of anesthesia soon, but he's on a heavy dose of morphine right now. When he first wakes up, he probably won't be coherent. He may or may not be able to recognize any of you, and the things he says might not make any sense. Think of it more like talking in his sleep than really being awake. In a couple of hours he should be more lucid for a little while."

But nothing could have prepared Jack for the moment he entered the hospital room.

Luckily, Bitty's bruising on his face and upper body wasn't much worse than Suzanne's, but it was still startling. It was so much worse than anything Jack had seen after a hockey game. His blankets covered his abdomen, where Jack knew the major damage was, but his leg was sticking out of them, in traction.

He looked so frail, so delicate, and it hit Jack all at once how close he'd come to losing Bitty that night. If the car had hit them just a second or two later, it would have rammed right into him instead of just his legs, and he'd be in far, far worse shape… if he'd survived. A few bare seconds had been the only thing standing between Jack and losing the most important thing in his life, and he wouldn't have even known it had happened until later.

Jack was suddenly dizzy, the blood rushing out of his head at the thought. He sat down hard on a chair off to one side of Bitty's bed and tried to get his breathing under control. Bitty was alive, he was right there and breathing—but he almost hadn't been. He almost hadn't been. If they'd gotten him to the hospital a little later and he'd bled too much or spilled too much bacteria into his gut… If the car had been going a little faster and torn his leg right off… If he'd bounced differently and cracked his head on some part of the car…

Jack covered his mouth as a choked sob came out. He was startled at how wet his hand was—so many tears had already fallen, and he couldn't stop them.

"Honey, here." Suzanne passed him a box of kleenex that was on the bedside table.

"I'm sorry," he said as he took them. "I'm sorry, I—I shouldn't—" He couldn't finish as another sob wracked his body.

"You should." Suzanne's voice was firm.

Jack nodded, not about to argue with one of the few people who could have lost even more than him that night.

He wiped the tears from his face, but they just kept coming. He was hunched over in his chair, shuddering, trying to keep his breakdown as private as he could with two other (conscious) people standing right there. If he couldn't keep his cheeks dry for more than a few seconds, he at least tried to keep his nose clean to retain some semblance of dignity.

Every time he would start to calm down, the reality of the situation would wash over him again, pulling a new sob from him. It had to be ten minutes, at least, that he sat there, falling apart when Bitty's own parents were managing to keep it together.

Finally, his eyes were dry, the only remnants of his loss of control a slight hitch in his breathing.

When he looked up, Suzanne was watching him from the other side of Bitty's bed. She was stroking her son's hair while Coach looked out the window. There were tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he couldn't help saying again. "That was—"

"A totally normal response when someone you love almost dies," Suzanne finished for him. Jack had done nothing to earn the affection in her gaze, and fidgeted nervously under it.

He turned his attention to Bitty instead, watching his chest rise and fall in a promise that he would wake up from this. Eventually his eyes wandered up to Bitty's bruised face, taking stock of the injuries there. Jack was familiar enough with facial bruising that he had a vague idea of where the impacts had come from. He occupied himself with cataloguing every bruise so he could appreciate as they disappeared.

He suddenly realized that he had one hand over Bitty's on the bed, absently stroking it with his thumb. The skin was as soft as ever, even with the flesh bruised and slightly swollen. He was careful to keep his touch light; Bitty may have been on morphine, but that didn't mean he needed his bruises pressed on.

After a while, Jack realized he should probably let everyone else know that he'd gotten to see Bitty, beat up but alive, with his own eyes. He didn't particularly want to take his hand away, but he did it just long enough to send texts to the group chat and to his parents.

Just as he was finishing, there was a rustle of movement from the bed. Suzanne gasped, and Coach came over from where he'd been perched on the windowsill. Jack leaned forward in his chair to watch as Bitty's head twitched from side to side. Bitty mumbled to himself, but Jack couldn't make out any of the words.

"Hey, there, sweetheart, you comin' back to us?" Suzanne cooed as she continued to stroke his hair. "Hey, li'l dicky-bird, you gotta wake up so we can see you're still all in one piece, you hear?"

She kept murmuring to him, and his mumbles seemed like attempts to respond, although Jack still couldn't identify any actual words in them.

After a minute, his eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused, and Jack doubted he'd actually seen any of them before they fell closed again.

Jack picked up Bitty's hand carefully and started running his fingers slowly down each of Bitty's fingers, one by one. Bitty's hand twitched as he did it, occasionally closing around Jack's.

His eyes flew open again.

"Where am I?" he immediately asked, his words slightly slurred.

"You're in the hospital, baby," Suzanne told him. "We were in a car accident."

"Oh! Mama, you're hurt!" Bitty's eyes widened as he looked at his mother, but they were still not quite tracking properly, like he was a kitten who had just opened its eyes and was learning to see for the first time.

"Only a little," Suzanne assured him.

Bitty looked from her to Coach, and then to Jack. He was blinking a bit too much and for too long, and for a second it looked like he might be falling asleep again. But then his eyes opened again and he let out a surprised gasp. He was looking at Jack (or at least, in Jack's general direction).

"Wow," Bitty said, "you're cute."

Jack slapped a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter, and he heard small snorts as Suzanne and Coach did the same.

"Um." Jack moved his hand so he could talk and hoped he wouldn't burst out laughing at his bedridden boyfriend. "Thanks, Bits."

"You look like my boyfriend."

Jack gave up. He leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Bitty's bed, trying to keep his laughter as quiet as possible. He heard a quiet "oh, my lord," from Suzanne as she stifled her own giggles, and even Coach stepped away from the bed for a minute to get himself under control.

"Really?" Jack choked out, his head still down.

"Yeah. He's famous. His butt is famous, too. All by itself! Looks better in person, though."

Jack's head snapped up. "Okay, Bittle, maybe you should stop talking about your boyfriend's, um, body. Your parents are right here."

Suzanne's face was in her good hand, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Bitty hummed a little as his eyes fell closed. Just when Jack thought he'd fallen back asleep, though, they opened again.

"Jack?" Bitty smiled a little, seeming to actually recognize him this time. "Love you."

"J'taime aussi, mon lapin," Jack replied softly. He itched to reach out and touch Bitty's hair, but it already felt too intimate for having his parents in the room. Bitty scrunched up his nose.

"What? I don't even know what language that was."

Jack chuckled as Suzanne clucked her tongue. "And here I thought you got a B- in French this semester, young man."

"I did?" Bitty turned to his mother, then frowned. "What'd you do to your arm?"

Suzanne's face fell. "Oh, sweetie. We were in a car accident. I'm okay."

"Is that why my leg feels so weird?" Bitty looked down at the offending appendage. "It's all…" He gestured vaguely to his leg, then sighed.

Bitty's eyes fell closed again, and this time they seemed destined to stay that way for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Bitty is severely injured in a car accident, and Jack spends a good chunk of the fic not knowing how he's doing or whether he'll survive. By the end of the chapter, Jack is at the hospital with him and he's awake (well, sort of). He has a broken leg and had internal bleeding, but there won't be any permanent damage. His injuries are not described in detail.


	2. we got nothin' figured out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. This fic turned out to be _ridiculously_ autobiographical. I've never been seriously injured in a car accident, but when I was getting my Master's degree, I was diagnosed with cancer while I happened to be "home"/at my parents' house for Christmas break. I won't bore you explaining the whole thing here, though if you're curious hit me up on Tumblr and I will gladly tell the whole story, probably in far more detail than you want! But yeah, basically once I got Bitty all banged up, I realized that he was pretty much in the same situation I'd been in, and so this chapter is heavily, heavily informed by my experiences. Although quite honestly, the Bittles are far more reasonable people than my mother.

The first thing Bitty was aware of was pain.

Not searing pain, not agony. But a dull pain all through his lower body, like he'd taken a series of rough checks to the gut.

He moaned a little and shook his head, trying to will his eyes open. He heard his mother's voice first, soft like she didn't want to disturb him.

"Hey, there, sweetheart, you awake?"

He finally pried his eyes open, blinking up at her.

"Yeah? I guess?" His throat was sore and his voice was scratchy, but before he could mention it she was holding out a cup of water with a straw for him. He took a sip, then laid his head back down. "You're hurt. _I'm_ hurt. What happened?"

He still couldn't quite focus his eyes completely, and his head was full of fog.

"We were in a car accident on the way to Moomaw's, baby. Do you remember that?"

Bitty frowned, still fighting to keep his eyes open. He'd gotten in the car. He'd been texting Jack. "No? I remember driving to Moomaw's, but it cuts off about halfway there."

"Well," his mother continued, "I broke my arm, and you broke your leg plus you had some internal injuries. We had quite a scare, you were in surgery for hours, but it's all okay now."

As Bitty's vision cleared, he realized someone was holding his hand on the other side of the bed from his mother. He looked over and gasped.

"Jack! What are you doin' here?"

Jack smiled gently. Bitty's heart jumped at the sight, then fell into his stomach when he realized that Jack was _here_. With his _parents_. "Hey, bud. I came as soon as I found out about the accident."

"But—um—" Bitty's eyes darted back and forth between his boyfriend on one side and his parents on the other, while he tried to pull his hand out of Jack's as discreetly as possible. He couldn't say what was wrong with this situation without _saying what was wrong with this situation_ , and he hoped his skyrocketing heart rate wouldn't get the attention of the nurses.

"It's okay, Bits. We talked." Jack glanced over at Bitty's parents. "I'll go let the nurses know he's awake, eh? I should call my parents, too."

Mama and Coach murmured their assent, Jack kissed Bitty's temple as he stood up, and then Bitty was alone with his parents. Who apparently knew about him and Jack. The tension running through his body was doing nothing to dull the throbbing pain.

His mother smiled as she sat down on the side of his bed and carded her fingers through his hair.

"It's okay, baby." Her words were choked with tears, although none were falling yet. "Dicky, we love you so much. We coulda lost you tonight, don't you dare think for one second we're gonna love you any less for any reason. Certainly not for letting a boy like that fall in love with you."

Tears of relief stung Bitty's own eyes, but he couldn't help the way they darted over her shoulder to Coach. He hadn't really thought his mama would be upset, but he had no idea how his daddy would take it.

When Coach smiled, the tears in Bitty's eyes finally spilled over.

"You got yourself a fine young man there, Junior."

A nurse came in just then, interrupting their moment. She checked Bitty's vitals, asked him a handful of questions to make sure he was thinking straight, then gave him some more morphine, promising to be back in ten minutes to check if the dosage was working for him.

Coach watched her leave, then turned back to his son.

"Let me tell you a little somethin' about that fella of yours. I got the call around 4:30, your mama had a guy who saw the accident happen call me 'cause she was in no state to. After that, it took 'em a while to get you outta that car, your leg there—" He nodded to Bitty's right leg, which was in a cast and in traction. "—was trapped. But once we got to the hospital and they got you in for surgery, I took a look at your mama's phone."

"I was still in getting my arm tended to," Mama filled in. Coach nodded.

"I meant to call the relatives and give 'em an update, but along with a few missed calls from them there were two from an unknown number. And a text from that number, which turned out to be that boy trying to get ahold of you, said it was important. All that was timestamped around, oh, maybe quarter of six, no later. I figured it was as good a chance as any to get word out to your friends that you were in a bad way, so I called him back thinking I'd just tell him the basics and have him spread the word. And I'll be damned if by the end of that conversation he wasn't promising he'd be here as soon as he could. From _Canada_." He snorted. "I was confused as hell, lemme tell you. I didn't know _what_ that boy was thinking. Once your mama was out, I told her all about it."

"And not even an hour later," Mama picked up the story, "I got another text saying he was on a _plane_ and he'd be in Athens in _three and a half hours_. Now, Dicky, it didn't take us long to put two and two together. There was just no possible way he'd gotten himself on a commercial flight that quick on Christmas Eve."

The pain medicine was starting to make Bitty's head pleasantly floaty (and the throb in his abdomen was dulling), but it was also making it a little harder for him to think.

"Well then how'd he get here?" he asked.

Mama raised an eyebrow. "We haven't asked, but the only way we can figure is he got himself on a private plane."

"I've arranged a chartered flight here and there for the football team, so I've seen how much it costs," Coach supplied. "Junior, you don't drop everything on Christmas Eve and spend several thousand dollars to rush to the bedside of your old college buddy."

"I guess not." Bitty's cheeks were warm, although he wasn't sure how obvious a blush would be with the bruises on his face.

"More'n that," Coach continued, "a lot of people wouldn't go that far for their sweetheart. Not unless they're pretty serious about 'em. I thought you should know that."

Bitty nodded. He could feel the morphine loosening his tongue and he didn't really want to gush about Jack like a fool, so he didn't say anything.

He didn't have to say anything, as it turned out, because Jack came back in right then and settled back into his chair right next to Bitty.

"My parents are glad to hear you're awake, as is everyone in the group chat."

"Oh gosh, the boys all know already?" Bitty gasped and looked down at his broken leg. "Oh no! How'm I gonna play hockey on this? I'm not! I'm not gonna—"

"We'll figure it out, sweetie," his mama cut him off.

"One thing at a time," Jack said, taking Bitty's hand in his again. "It's more important for you to get better than to get back on the ice."

"Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?" Bitty asked, making everyone chuckle—then he froze at the realization that he'd just called Jack his boyfriend in front of his parents. Which was ridiculous, they _knew_ , but the instinct to hide was going to die hard.

The nurse came back in and confirmed that the morphine was taking effect. She fiddled with the machinery a little, explaining that he'd only gotten part of the dose and now she was programming it to deliver the rest of the dose over time. Bitty was already getting a little loopy; he'd be asleep again soon with any more medication in his system.

"What'd you need to tell me?" he asked Jack as soon as the nurse was gone.

Jack's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Coach said you called Mama's phone lookin' for me 'cause you had somethin' important to talk to me about." Bitty's accent was starting to stretch out his words and blur the edges. His tongue was getting heavy.

"Oh, um." Jack blushed, and his eyes darted to Mama and Coach. Surely, he wouldn't have called Bitty's mother if he wanted to talk about something… _private_ , would he? "I said that because I didn't want your mother to know I was actually just worried about you."

"Worried?" Bitty tilted his head to the side, but that hurt, so he stopped.

Jack seemed to shrink into his chair a little as his fingers traced over Bitty's. "You stopped texting me in the middle of a conversation with no explanation, which was weird," he said with a shrug, "and then an hour later you still weren't responding. I called and it went straight to voice mail, but you'd just told me you charged your phone, so it wouldn't have died. Something just… felt off about the whole thing, but I figured I was freaking out over nothing, and you'd call me back and chirp me for worrying. For once I really wish I hadn't been right about something."

Bitty heard a soft "oh my goodness" from his mother. Jack seemed embarrassed, but Bitty was overwhelmed.

"So the only reason you even know about the accident right now," he said, a little sniffly, "is because you had a magical premonition that I was in danger and got my mama's phone number from your mama just to check that I was okay? And then you dropped everything and ran all way from Montreal—"

"I did not run—"

"You _ran_ all the way from _Montreal_ , Jack, just so you could be here when I woke up." Bitty was definitely crying now. "That is the most ridiculous, romantic thing I have ever heard in my life, and that's even counting at least _two_ other times you have done basically the same thing, but without an airplane."

"And it was not a magical premonition, just paranoia that happened to be right. I think the morphine is kicking in, Bits." Jack was blushing harder, but at least he wasn't trying to disappear into his chair anymore.

Bitty ignored the last comment, although he knew it was right. He'd be falling back asleep any minute, but for now he looked up at his parents.

"Did you hear all that? What am I supposed to do with this boy, mama?"

"You hang onto him, that's what you do, you hear?"

His mother was smiling and telling him to hang onto his boyfriend. Bitty wondered vaguely if this was just a really nice dream brought on by the morphine, but before he could decide, he'd slipped back to sleep.

 

The next couple of days were a series of short half-coherent stretches, never more than a half an hour and rarely more than fifteen minutes. Many of them involved nurses asking him to cough, breathe into a strange contraption, or move various parts of his body.

Sometime during that first night, he woke up to hear his parents having a whispered argument with Jack.

He was worried until he heard Coach say "I do not want some NHL coach calling to chew me out because his star player wrenched his shoulder trying to sleep in a hospital chair. He knows you're here, if he wakes up we will tell him where you went, now go get a hotel room and get you a few hours of sleep, son."

He was asleep again before he could hear Jack's reply, but when he woke up again some indeterminate time later only his mother was curled up asleep in the sad excuse for an armchair in the corner, so Coach must have won.

The next time he woke up Jack was back, and Coach had brought a couple of Bitty's Christmas presents from home. Jack helped him open one, since his arms, while not broken, were pretty bruised up and sore. He was barely able to admire the gorgeous new mandoline slicer before the morphine was dragging him back under again.

The nurses woke him up a few times to poke and prod at him, but the next time he was really coherent was dinner. The hospital food was beyond sad, but his mama had managed to sneak in a slice of apple pie for him, so it wasn't all bad. He wasn't supposed to eat more than a few bites at a time, but thank goodness the doctors hadn't put any restrictions on _what_ he could eat.

Things went on like that for another day. Finally, the afternoon of the 26th they turned his dose down some and he was able to stay awake and mostly-alert for a few hours at a time. It was getting toward dinner time when he realized that Jack was still there—and probably shouldn't be.

"Baby, aren't you heading back to Providence tonight? You've got a game tomorrow!"

Jack frowned. "The coaches and management all understand a family emergency, Bits. I mean, only George knows it's you, but she vouched for me and they respect my privacy. I can stay two more days, maybe three."

Under the influence of the pain meds, Bitty really wasn't sure if his tears were because he was happy Jack could stay a little longer or sad that he could only stay a couple more days.

—

The day Jack finally had to leave was also the day Bitty got to go home from the hospital. Well, back to his parents' house, which he supposed did still feel like home. He had multiple homes now, but this was the only one he would see for a while.

They'd all been avoiding that topic, but now that the doctor had just come through and given them a brief outline of his expected recovery schedule, they had to deal with it.

It was clear that he would not be leaving Georgia for at least a month, no matter what. He'd just had major abdominal surgery, and the doctor thought it would be about four weeks before he was cleared to travel. The broken femur, on the other hand, would take four to six months to heal.

"I can't miss the first three weeks of classes!"

His mother looked at him incredulously. "Honey, don't be silly, you're not going back to school this semester!"

He frowned at her. "I know I can't play hockey for the rest of the year, but I can go to classes with a broken leg."

"You can't live in that house with a broken leg! How are you gonna get up those stairs?"

"She's right," Jack said, "you can't live in the Haus. You'll have to stay with me until your leg is healed. I'm not sure there's a way around the medical withdrawal, anyhow."

The glare his mama gave Jack annoyed him, but Bitty was a little irked at Jack too, to be completely honest. It was bad enough that his leg would put him out of hockey for the rest of the season no matter what. Even worse that they were both right; he probably couldn't salvage the semester school-wise at all. He didn't need everyone _except_ him deciding where he would be living while he watched the rest of the world live a normal life, too.

"I do not _have to_ do anything," he said firmly. "Your place is definitely one option, but not the only one."

"Jack, I appreciate that you are here for him, I do," Mama said, though there was a thread of ice in her tone that did not sound particularly appreciative. "But you work long hours and you're out of town half the time. You can't take care of Dicky properly while he's recovering. Obviously, he needs to stay here where his father and I and the rest of his family can help him."

Bitty sighed and turned back to his mother. "Mama, I am gonna stay here while I'm recovering from the abdominal surgery, okay? I mean, not that I have much choice in the matter on that, but you're right, I'll need a lot of help. But once it's just my leg, I'll be able to do most things normally. I won't be bedridden, and I won't need people taking care of me every hour of every day."

His mother's mouth twisted, and he suddenly felt like a five-year-old she was being very patient with. He clenched his jaw and pushed down his reflexive indignation.

"Now, honey," she said, patting his hand and not making him feel any better, "if you won't be in classes and you won't be playing hockey, why on earth _wouldn't_ you stay here?"

His jaw dropped. "Mama, I have a _life_ up in Samwell! No, I won't be in classes or on the ice, but all of my friends are there. I don't have _any_ friends here in Madison. There are like two people from high school I still talk to, and they're off at school, too!"

"Your friends are up there, but your _family_ is here, Dicky."

He opened his mouth to say the team was like a family, but he was suddenly quite sure that she would not take that well right now. Her son was in the hospital, and she did not want to be told that she was no more important to him than Mr. Crappy. Of _course_ she was more important than that, but that didn't mean he wanted to _live_ with her.

"I'm twenty years old, Mama. You can't expect me to sit around the house with my parents all day for the next six months."

"There are plenty of young men your age still living with their parents around here," she said. "And hardly any who went all the way up to Massachusetts for college, even when they're fit as a fiddle! We have never begrudged you choosing to go to Samwell, but without school I don't see why you're suddenly too good for Madison."

"I'm not too good, I'm too gay!" It burst out of his mouth before he could help it—he was still on enough pain medicine that he was pretty sure he could blame that for his lack of restraint. His parents blinked at him, taken aback. Jack touched his hand, and he clung to Jack's, suddenly the most reassuring thing on earth.

"I'm sorry, it's just so nice, not having to pretend to be someone I'm not. My friends have all known I'm gay for two years now! They all know about Jack and me. He's even starting to tell his teammates on the Falconers! Here, I have to lie about who Jack is, I have to grin and bear it when Uncle Tony asks about girls or when Mr. Holden next door says what a shame it is that those activist judges are trying to destroy the sanctity of marriage. I have to be sure not to talk or walk or act too gay or even now I could get beaten up in the wrong parts of town! Do you have any idea how exhausting it was for me last summer, after months of freedom?" He sighed. He really didn't want to have this conversation right now. "Anyhow. That's one reason I don't really want to stay here for six months."

It was silent for a moment.

"We can find you some place in Samwell, near campus, with no stairs if you want," Jack finally said quietly. "But my place does have an elevator. And you can visit Samwell any time, a broken leg doesn't keep you from taking the train or an Uber. I could even get the Haus a new couch, maybe with a pull-out bed, if you wanted to spend the night there sometimes when I'm on a roadie. But I _am_ out of town a lot and I don't want you to be lonely in Providence, so if you don't want that I'm sure there are first-floor rooms or places with elevators near campus. Either way, we'll manage. Whatever works best for you."

Bitty sighed heavily, then smiled up at Jack. Jack's brows were drawn in concern, the rest of his face open and earnest. Bitty knew he meant it; Jack wouldn't be offended or upset if he'd rather spend most of his time at Samwell.

"Don't be silly, honey. It makes sense, and more than that, I _want_ to stay with you. Although the new couch is a great idea; I probably would stay there sometimes if I could. It's too bad there's no way Chowder'll let me burn the old one, but if he wants it so bad he can find a way to get it up to his room." He turned back to his parents. Coach was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, silent, but that wasn't surprising. His mother still didn't look happy. "Mama, I am _so_ glad that you'll be able to take care of me after that surgery, believe me. Even with all this medication, I still hurt something awful, and it feels like someone stuck a wooden spoon in my gut and mixed everything up. I don't have any desire to go anywhere until that's feeling better. But once it's just my leg that's healing, I am gonna go up to Providence, and I hope you can be okay with that."

She pushed a frustrated breath out her nose. "I'll be honest, I don't know if I like the idea of you two living together already."

Bitty only barely managed not to laugh out loud. "Mama, please don't tell me you're worried about me and Jack living in sin. I don't believe the good Lord has turned his back on me because I'm gay, and if he don't care _who_ I love, I doubt he cares whether or not we live together before we're married."

Mama rolled her eyes. "No, I am not worried about _that_ , thank you very much. But you are twenty years old, and you've only been dating a few months." She flicked her eyes back and forth between Bitty and Jack, addressing them both. "It's not necessarily good for a relationship, that kind of commitment that early. I don't want this car accident forcing you to jump into something you might not be ready for. You _both_ might not be ready for."

Bitty threaded his fingers through Jack's, and Jack squeezed his hand. "I get it. But we're not _really_ moving in together, not like that. We're young and we're in love, mama, but we're not stupid. Once I can handle stairs I'll move back to the Haus full time. I'll probably stay with Jack for part of the summer, but I was gonna do that anyway. And either way, I'll be back at Samwell in August, and we'll have another nine months, minimum, of living almost an hour apart."

He and Jack had started talking about the future some—shy, teasing conversations that didn't involve actual promises but made it clear that they both wanted this relationship to last. That they planned on being a part of each other's lives for a very long time to come. Enough that no, he didn't have any doubts about committing to living with Jack for a few months, or saying he'd be staying with Jack that summer. But they really _weren't_ trying to rush into anything permanent, even if they both knew that was where they were headed in the long run. Even if they lived in the same city, he wouldn't want to move in with Jack on an indefinite basis yet. He had the rest of his life to live with Jack, and only a few short years to experience living in a place like the Haus, after all.

"When Jack first suggested it, you didn't seem so keen on it yourself, now suddenly you're all for it. This isn't the kind of decision you should make on the spur of the moment just to be contrary, Dicky."

"What I wasn't keen on was being told by _anyone_ other than the doctors what I do or do not _have to_ do," Bitty said, raising an eyebrow at Jack. Jack looked appropriately chastened. "And honestly, mother, I am twenty, not twelve! I do not do things just because my parents told me not to."

Mama sighed and finally turned to Coach. "Richard?"

Coach looked a little startled to be put on the spot, but he stepped forward. "I dunno, Junior, you are gonna need a lot of medical care, even just for the leg. Doctors, physical therapists—"

"I have access to PTs who specialize in getting hockey players back on the ice," Jack cut in. "If he's going to be as competitive next year as he was this year, he's going to need the best." He turned back to Bitty. "And if there's anything your insurance won't cover, obviously I can pay for it."

"Now, look, son." Now Coach was the one glaring at Jack, and Bitty sighed internally because he knew Jack had said the wrong thing. "There are perfectly good physical therapists in Georgia, and we can pay our own medical bills. We don't need charity."

Jack looked like he'd just been slapped. He took a deep breath and closed his mouth, and Bitty could tell from the look of intense focus on his face that he was choosing just the right words.

"Honey…" Bitty squeezed his hand, then turned to his father. "Daddy, that's not what he meant."

"I didn't—" Jack stopped, looking a little frustrated, then tried again. He fixed Coach with his patented Jack Zimmermann Intense Stare, but a version without its usual intimidating edge. "Mr. Bittle, I wasn't trying to imply that you aren't capable of providing for your family. But I want you to understand that I'm just trying to do the exact same thing. That's not charity."

Bitty wasn't sure his parents would be all that receptive to Jack calling Bitty _his family_ , but lord, it was doing all sorts of things to _him_. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

His mama looked like she was tearing up, too—not necessarily in a good way, but also maybe not entirely in a bad way. She looked conflicted, more than anything.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "I think I need a little bit of fresh air before we continue this conversation. Richard, let's go get some coffee, shall we?"

The tension in the air palpably dissolved as his parents left the room, and Jack slumped forward, leaning his forehead against Bitty's.

"I'm sorry, Bits. I really wasn't trying to piss off your parents."

"It's not just you, sweetheart. And good lord, I'm so glad you're here, don't you apologize for defending me. They need someone besides me to remind them that I am, in fact, an adult who can make my own medical decisions. They're only annoyed at you because they don't _wanna_ be reminded of that."

Jack leaned back in his chair. He looked down at their clasped hands, tracing his fingers up and down Bitty's.

"I was younger than you when I overdosed, but I was still an adult. Although I think… I sort of think that being in the Q kept me from growing up a little, in some ways. Too much freedom, not enough boundaries. I was immature. _Definitely_ not as mature as you at the same age. But anyhow, I went through some of the same stuff with them. I mean, I _needed_ rehab, and then I didn't really have anywhere else to go but home with them, so not exactly the same. But once I felt ready to leave, go away for college, they didn't want me to go. They tried their hardest to convince me to play for McGill. It was hard for them to accept that it wasn't their decision, you know? I didn't want to go to a party school, obviously, but just the fact that partying and drinking are a part of any college's culture freaked them out. I think the fact that my mother went to Samwell helped a lot, and the fact that even if there's partying, people are still serious about their studies there. But in the end I just had to say, look, this is what I'm doing. I've thought this through and I think this is the best option for me, and you're just going to have to trust me a little."

Bitty nodded. "I guess it's always hard, letting go, no matter what the circumstances are. But especially when your kid's not a hundred percent healthy or safe." He reached up and brushed a bit of Jack's bangs away from his face, then grinned. "I'll be going so stir-crazy in a month, they'll be glad to be rid of me, I'll bet. Especially not gettin' to see you ever. And now that they know, I don't have to pretend I'm not pining away like I did this summer. Gimme two weeks, mama'll be calling you beggin' you to come get me so I'll stop mooning over you all the time."

Jack smiled. "I'll visit whenever I can, I promise. Every day off, not that I get many. Depending on exactly when you're given the all clear, you might still be here during our bye week—it might even be when I can bring you back up to Providence, that would be convenient." His smile faded. "I'm really sorry, about earlier. I honestly wasn't trying to make these decisions for you, I just wasn't thinking. We can look into all the housing options—"

"Jack, hush," Bitty said. "I know that. I was just… feelin' a little boxed in, y'know? I can't make myself heal any faster, I can't get hockey or school back, the least I can do is decide where I'm living. But I was serious, of course being with you is my first choice. That's maybe the only good thing to come out of all this!"

Jack sighed, then took Bitty's hand and kissed it. "I don't want to make it sound like I'm glad this happened, because I am in no way happy about this at all, and if I could go back and time and prevent it I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I'll admit that might be the one silver lining." He paused. "Do you think your dad's going to hate me forever if I do pay for your physical therapy? I know the ones the Falcs work with aren't cheap, but they're what you need."

"You know, I have to wonder how he'd feel about that if I were a girl," Bitty grumbled.

"What?"

"If he had a daughter who was hurt, and her boyfriend wanted to pay for her treatment, I bet you anything Coach would look at him and see a man who was stepping up and being responsible. But instead he's got a son, and he's always assumed I'd be the one taking care of some woman someday. So he probably thought he was doing so well, dealing with the sudden revelation that I'm gay, but now he's got to deal with us throwin' his damn gender roles out the window, too."

"Well, I think he's going to have to get used to there being no gender roles in a relationship between two men," Jack said with a smirk.

"You'd think with the figure skating and the baking he'd be used to that with me, but maybe this is just the last straw, y'know? Especially since I hate to break it to you, honey, but I doubt I'm ever gonna be making more money than you, and I think he knows that. So now he's got a figure skating, baking, gay son who'll never be the breadwinner. I probably might as well be a girl as far as he's concerned," he added bitterly. "I bet at this point he wishes I were."

"Hey," Jack said, squeezing his hand. "Don't assume the worst, okay? He's dealt really well with my being here. He's been nothing but welcoming. I'm sure he can deal with me supporting you until you've got your own Food Network show and a few bestselling cookbooks and suddenly you're the one making more money."

Bitty laughed. "Oh my goodness, you are quite the optimist, Mr. Zimmermann." He reached out and tugged on Jack's shirt a little. "But anyhow, listen to you." Jack got the message and leaned in to kiss him. "Talking about providing for _your_ _family_ ," he said just before their lips met. "I swear," he murmured before going in for another peck. "You can't just say things like that when my parents are right there and I can't kiss the daylights out of you for it."

He slid his fingers into Jack's hair and kissed him properly. A minute later they heard the doorknob turn and Jack sprung back, making Bitty giggle a little—it wasn't like they'd really been doing anything that bad.

A nurse came in to check Bitty's vitals, and by the time she was done, his parents were back. They both looked tired, but not as upset.

"Look, mama," Bitty said when the nurse was gone. "We've got a while before we need to worry about what's happening when I head back up to New England, okay? But you need to understand that if it's at all possible, I do plan on going back up there while my leg is healing. We can work out the details later, though."

"Dicky, I know you're an adult now, and I know you've got to live your life the way you want to live it. We just want to make sure that nothing gets in the way of you healing up, and that includes your social life up at school. But I'm sure we'll figure this out." She glanced at Jack. "I know gettin' you better is all any of us care about here. Now, they should be in here any minute with the last of the discharge instructions, and then we've got to get you home and get Jack to the airport, so let's start by gathering up all these flowers and gifts you've been getting and loading them into the car."

 

His parents and Jack were a little stiff around each other at first after that, but by the time they had Bitty settled into the first floor guest bed at home, they all seemed to have gotten over the argument. For his part, Bitty was very sore and simply _exhausted_ from the short trip, and couldn't wait to take his next dose of pain meds and get to sleep.

But when he woke up, Jack would be gone.

His parents left them alone for the last half hour before he had to go. Jack crawled into the double bed and cuddled Bitty carefully, his touch light over the bruises and avoiding the stomach area altogether. Bitty nuzzled into Jack's chest, not caring much if it made the bruises on his face a little sore. They were nothing compared to all the places where he _really_ hurt.

"Are you sure letting Coach drive you to Atlanta is a good idea?"

"I made other suggestions, and your parents shot them all down. Trust me, I'm a little terrified of the idea at the moment, but I'm trying to stay on their good side. They don't have to let me visit you, y'know. It's their house."

"Oh, lord, they wouldn't do that," Bitty said, icy fear curling in his belly. "Would they? They've been so good about this whole thing so far, they let you stay at the hospital for hours at a time, they seem to like you—well, mostly."

"I don't think they would right now, but if your mother thought I was going to interfere with your recovery at all, I wouldn't put it past her. Even if it's nothing personal. Your health is her only priority, which is good, that's how it should be. But she'd rather you be all in one piece and miserable missing me than have us happily skipping your doctors' appointments to make out or something."

Bitty laughed. "Jack Zimmermann, if there is one person on God's green earth less likely than my mama to let me miss a doctor's appointment for the next six months, it has to be you. I'd rank you over Coach for that. Even if I tried to distract you with sex!"

"I just need to make sure your parents understand that. I'm guessing your dad will want to talk to me about that sort of thing. Or about my intentions toward his son, or something."

Bitty sighed what was maybe his first happy sigh since Christmas Eve, his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against Jack's collarbone. Jack couldn't see his smile, but he reckoned Jack could hear it when he asked, "And what, exactly, are your intentions toward me, Mr. Zimmermann?"

Jack hummed thoughtfully. "I intend to do whatever it takes for us to be able to build a life together."

It wasn't the playful answer Bitty had expected, and when he looked up he could feel tears threatening to spill out.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said. "You and me both, okay? I might not be much good for anything right now, but that's my plan."

Jack's eyes looked a little watery, too. He bent his head down to kiss Bitty gently.

"You're doing everything you can, Bits. And I know you'll keep doing everything you can, even if that's just talking to me every day and telling me you love me and putting up with me when I'm in a bad mood."

"I can certainly do all that," Bitty replied.

By the time Jack left, he was ready to pass out. Jack wouldn't be there when he woke up, but he'd just be a text or a phone call or a Skype away, anytime Bitty needed him. He'd come all the way down to Georgia when he could. And they'd keep building their life together, small as it was right then, made up of good night Skypes and brief overnight visits and morning selfies. They were just laying a foundation, he knew, to build something bigger and better on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments on the first chapter! I am, unfortunately, not great at responding to every comment, but I will try to get through as many as I can - you should know, though, that I love and appreciate every single one!


	3. and I can see it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay - between being sick and dissertation work, I haven't had much time the past few days!
> 
> I'm sure there were other things I was going to say, but I'm not feeling great again so let's just get this thing posted. It's a good thing I did most of the editing this morning when I was feeling fine!

Jack woke up on Christmas Eve, 2016 wrapped around a warm lump, blonde hair tickling his nose. He pulled Bitty close and nuzzled into him, acutely aware of how lucky he was to be able to do so.

Since they'd wound up both spending Christmas in Madison last year, Bitty's parents were understanding when he wanted to come to Montreal with Jack for the holiday this year, especially given that Hanukkah started on December 24. Thankfully, Jack was now on good terms with them; in fact, after everything they'd all been through that year, Suzanne sometimes positively fawned over him for the support he'd given Bitty. As if he could have done anything else.

 

_The hour-plus drive with Coach Bittle to the Atlanta airport was as awkward as predicted._

_Neither of them said anything for the first ten minutes, the radio tuned to some local news program that was giving a rundown of the high school football scores. Coach Bittle's team had won the night before, but they'd done it under the watchful eye of their assistant coach. When the announcer noted this, and started to talk about how Madison's head coach was out with a family emergency, Coach switched the radio off with a sigh._

_"You sure a few days off hasn't thrown you off your training schedule too much?" he asked, and Jack was relieved to be able to retreat into the comfortable refuge of sports talk for a bit._

_It was a long drive, though, and they'd talked enough about Jack's team over the past couple of days that they couldn't come up with more than fifteen minutes or so of new territory to cover._

_After they'd drifted back into an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, Coach cleared his throat, and Jack steeled himself for whatever parental talk he was about to receive._

_"Look, son," he started, "it's not that we don't appreciate what you're offerin' to do for Junior. And I realize that right after something as terrible as this, you wanna be useful. Anyone does, after any tragedy, big or small. You wanna feel like you're contributing something, and you care about him and you wanna do what you can to help get him back on his feet."_

_"Of course," Jack said, not quite sure where this was going but not liking the wording so far._

_"It's just—once you're back up there in Providence, living your life, doing your job, getting some distance and perspective, Suzanne and I would appreciate it if you sat down and thought real hard about this before you promise Junior anything. Because with all the physical therapy he'll need after his leg's put to rights, he's gonna be recovering from this accident for as long as you two have been dating up to now. First off, if you're gonna offer to let him stay with you, you've gotta be prepared for his leg to not be healed up 'til maybe as late as June. And if anything happens between the two of you, he'll be worse off having to scramble for a place to live than if he'd stayed here."_

_Jack wanted to break in, but knew it was probably best to let Coach say his piece._

_"So if you care about him now, think about making it easier on him then. Second, as far as getting him a fancy physical therapist and offering to pay for it and all, well that's gonna go even longer. Probably right up until their season starts, probably some here and there after that. Now, if he has to change to another physical therapist midway through, that's not the end of the world, but so help me, if he's left worrying about the bill for someone he shouldn't have gone to in the first place—well, obviously we'd pay it, but I know my boy and I know he'd blame himself, and forget me, you do not want to face my wife's wrath for saddling him with that. Not when he's been through all this already. So, look, Jack. There are a lot of ways you can help here. But there are also a lot of ways you can hurt my boy, and you really need to think about which types of helpin' you should be doing to keep yourself from doing the hurting."_

_Coach fell quiet, finally, and Jack nodded, looking for the most prudent ways to say the things he was thinking. Luckily, Coach wasn't the kind of man who would begrudge him a few quiet minutes to get his thoughts in order, because Jack knew that he_ needed _to get this right._

_This wasn't about convincing Bitty's parents to let him move back north; they'd already established that only Bitty got to make that decision. It was about putting his parents' minds at ease so that this could all happen with as little drama as possible, and so that Jack could stay in his future in-laws' good graces. Right now, that meant reassuring Coach that Jack's commitment to Bitty didn't have anything to do with their current situation. This man might be one of the last people Jack wanted to look vulnerable in front of, but he knew he had to lay everything out on the table._

_"Do you know," he finally said slowly, "when you told me he'd been in an accident and wasn't doing well, what one of the first thoughts to flash through my head was?"_

_"What's that?" Coach asked, his eyes not leaving the road._

_"He can't die; we're not even married yet." Coach's eyes flickered to Jack, but he didn't say anything. "I know we've only been dating for a few months, but he's been one of my closest friends for a lot longer than that. We've been in love for a good year; the only reason we didn't start dating sooner was because I was… in denial, basically. Mostly because I thought he deserved better than I could ever give him. Pick a reason—because I wouldn't be living there the next year, because my career had to come before love, because we couldn't go public with our relationship, because I rarely understood my own emotions and was definitely no good at talking about them, because my relationship history was a mess. Every time my feelings for him would start to surface, I'd tell myself one of those things, or three of them, and push it back down. One of the things I decided in the seven minutes it took me to run across campus from my graduation ceremony to the Haus to kiss him was that if he deserved better, and he did, then I could damn well find a way to give it to him. The other thing I decided was that if I managed to do that, and he decided that I was worthy of him, then I was going to spend the rest of my life trying to live up to that. I knew before I kissed him that if he'd have me I was going to spend the rest of my life with him."_

_He paused, but Coach didn't interrupt. He was glancing at Jack periodically, though, his face unreadable._

_"I haven't said that to him in so many words, but we've talked around it. We've both made it clear that it's where we want to end up, and that we're both willing to work and to fight to get there. Don't worry, I have no intention of proposing before he's graduated," he said with a chuckle, "but once he does I can't promise how much longer I'll be able to hold off. So, yeah. I understand your concerns, and I'm sure I'd feel the same way in your position. But I can tell you right now that I have absolutely no hesitation about committing to supporting him in whatever ways he needs for the next six, nine months. That's nothing. I was already planning to give him a lot more than that. And I'll come back a month from now, whenever he's healed up from the surgery and can travel, and I'll tell you the exact same thing, and all I can do is hope that that time you'll believe me."_

_Coach Bittle nodded a bit, then sat quietly for a few minutes. But it was a more comfortable silence than before. He was digesting all that, and that was fine._

_"I'll say this," he finally said. "I do believe you. I believe that you mean every word of it. And I'll make you a deal. You go back up there, where you don't have to deal with any of this any more'n you want to at any given moment, and you sit with it. With what it will really mean going forward, when it's your everyday life instead of somethin' you visit or hear about on the phone, and everything that's gonna involve. How it's gonna change your day-to-day life. And if you do come back here and you can say that you've spent a month chewin' all that over and you can still say all that, well. At that point I just might believe that it's true, and not just that you believe it."_

_Jack nodded, smiling just a little. "Fair enough."_

 

Bitty hummed and turned around in Jack's arms. "G'mornin'," he muttered, voice muffled where his face was pressed into Jack's throat.

"Merry Christmas Eve," Jack said to him.

He pulled back just enough to give Jack a sleepy smile. "Happy Hanukkah."

"And happy anniversary," Jack murmured, kissing Bitty's forehead. Bitty snorted.

"On the one hand, it seems like a kind of a morbid anniversary to celebrate, but…"

"A year ago, you didn't die," Jack finished for him. Bitty nodded, then burrowed back into Jack's embrace. "I know I think that's worth celebrating."

 

_Jack had made it down to Georgia a handful of times to visit while Bitty was recovering from surgery; he'd also paid for Lardo and Chowder to each go down for a day. It had certainly been hard, being a three-hour plane ride plus hour-and-a-half drive away instead of a forty minute drive (he'd refrained from chartering any more flights, not wanting the Bittles to think he was flaunting his wealth; this also meant he'd been at the mercy of commercial airline schedules), but it wasn't like their six weeks apart over the summer, at least._

_Jack did, in fact, spend a lot of time thinking about what it would mean for Bitty to move in with him, what it would mean for Jack to help him through the rest of his recovery. Less of that, though, was thinking about whether he could or wanted to handle it, and more was spent finding relevant resources, reading up on femur fracture recovery, and looking into physical therapy options. He did think about the former some, though, because he wanted to be able to tell Coach Bittle that he was taking his concerns seriously. And it did make his stomach twist, sometimes—whether he could really give Bitty what he needed, whether he was being selfish wanting him in Providence when most of Bitty's friends were in Samwell. He and Bitty spent many nights on the phone and Skype talking about both of their fears and concerns, coming up with plans and contingency plans._

_So when he arrived in Madison four and a half weeks after he'd left, they could honestly tell Bitty's parents that they'd both thought it over, in great detail, and were ready. In the end, the Bittles still didn't seem entirely happy with the situation, but they'd at least made peace with the fact that they couldn't stop Bitty from leaving._

 

They eventually made it out of bed, and Bitty started some cinnamon rolls. Jack's parents woke up while he was cutting them, and Bob insisted on making the rest of breakfast while the rolls rose. So they took their mugs of coffee into the family room, where the huge tree was. Bitty settled on the couch to watch some holiday baking show while Jack admired the tree and the piles of gifts underneath it.

He knew Bitty had been embarrassed when he found out how many gifts Jack's parents had gotten him, but Jack couldn't help but smile, looking at them all. Gifts for Bitty mixed right in with the gifts for him and his parents, like they'd always been there. Like they belonged there, a normal part of his family's holiday celebrations.

"Aw, Jack," Bitty said from over his mug, "are you excited to open presents? I bet Santa brought you new hockey equipment every year."

Jack sauntered over to the couch and curled up next to his boyfriend. "Haha, no, I actually hardly ever got hockey stuff for the holidays until I was a teenager. When I was a kid I got a lot of Legos and books—I went through a sports biography phase, that was a big year for books."

"Oh lord, I can imagine," Bitty said, laughing.

"How about you?" Jack asked, elbowing Bitty gently with a grin. "Are you excited to open your gifts?"

Bitty smiled at him for a minute, an impish little grin that made Jack a little suspicious. Then he bit his lip and looked back at the TV.

"I think I'm more excited to see you open yours," he said.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Did my parents tell you what they got me?"

Bitty just shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, trying unsuccessfully to hide his delighted smile.

 

_They got Bitty up to Providence (Jack convinced him that he shouldn't mess with taking that leg on a commercial flight, so he let Jack charter them a flight just that once) and settled in. All the SMH guys came down for a party almost immediately, and Bitty looked happier than Jack had seen him since the accident to be surrounded by his friends. Jack checked again that he didn't want to get a place in Samwell, but Bitty was adamant that he wanted to stay in Providence. Jack did, however, follow through on his plan to buy a fold-out couch for the Haus, and only a week after Bitty got to town Dex came down in his beat-up pickup truck to pick him up so he could stay there while Jack was gone for three days._

_As it turned out, it wound up being more complicated than anticipated, what with Bitty's physical therapy schedule. After that visit, he wasn't able to stay at the Haus for more than one night before he'd have to get back to Providence for an appointment. He was taking a couple of online classes that they'd already confirmed would transfer to Samwell, and while that and baking kept him somewhat busy it wasn't long before he started getting restless and lonely when Jack was gone. Even when Jack was there, Bitty was frustrated with his limited mobility and missed having more people around._

_It was only about three weeks in before Jack realized what he was seeing. He'd come home from practice one day and was surprised at the lack of new baked goods greeting him._

_"Hey, Bits. No baking today?"_

_Bitty was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone while the TV played mindlessly. "Just wasn't in the mood, I guess. But if you're hungry I can—"_

_"No, no, I didn't mean I wanted anything. I just think this is the first day you haven't baked since you got here." He sat down on the couch next to Bitty, who didn't look up from his phone but leaned into Jack's side nonetheless._

_"Guess it had to happen eventually," Bitty said with a shrug._

_"What are you watching?"_

_Bitty looked up at the TV in surprise. "Oh… I don't know, I guess I wasn't really watching it. You can put on what you want."_

_Instead, Jack turned it off. He wrapped his arm around Bitty carefully. "You okay?" It wasn't the first time Jack had noticed it, Bitty being a bit down or listless, but it was the first time Bitty hadn't even tried to hide it behind baked goods and smiles._

_Bitty sighed. "I'm just tired of sitting here all day, totally useless. And the one thing I'm still good for, I don't even feel like doing. I haven't even gotten one dang episode of my vlog put together since the accident; I got the shooting done, but every time I sit down to edit it I can't focus. I think I might just go take a nap."_

_Jack joined him, since he needed to nap before his game that night anyhow. After they got up, Jack hesitantly brought up the topic of depression with him, and the next day they'd found a therapist who could get him in for an appointment the following week._

_Jack made an appointment with his own therapist, as well, so she could remind him that Bitty's depression wasn't a sign of his personal failure as a friend or boyfriend._

 

Jack spent most of the day helping Bitty in the kitchen. That night and the next day would be his first time meeting Jack's extended family, and so of course he felt the need to bake his way into their good graces. With Christmas and Hanukkah overlapping, the family visits would be an even bigger flurry of activity than usual—they were going to see Bob's side tonight, Alicia's tomorrow.

By the time they left for Jack's grandparents' house, Bitty had made several types of donuts, bread pudding made from homemade challah, and hand pies that, in the spirit of the holiday, he'd deep fried rather than baked. He also had three pie crusts in the freezer ready to go for Christmas Day.

Even with all that food, of course, a half hour before they left he was wringing his hands.

"How many people did you say were gonna be there?"

Even though Jack replied, "Sixteen," Bitty continued with his own headcount.

"You've got one aunt and one uncle, each married with two kids, two of your cousins are married, one has a baby who's old enough to eat real food but not enough to worry about. So that's ten adults and a baby, plus your grandparents is twelve and we make sixteen. Oh gosh, you think this is enough for sixteen people? There are only a dozen hand pies—"

"Bitty, trust me, it's plenty. Not everyone has to eat everything, and I'm sure at least one other person will bring some desserts, too. You know full well this is probably far more food than we need."

Bitty stopped wringing his hands and stared straight at Jack, eyes wide.

"Oh, lord. If there's anything left over at the end of the night, remind me you said that so I know it's not just because they hate me."

"It won't be at all because they hate you," Jack said, sliding his arms around Bitty's waist. "It'll be entirely because my Aunt Charlotte goes as all-out for the holidays as you do and she and my grandma have probably already made twice as much food as we'll eat. _You_ , they are going to adore. Now c'mon, we need to go get dressed."

 

_The therapy was a good move, but it certainly didn't fix all their problems. They argued; never anything big or important, but about Bitty's work for his classes, or how often he should visit Samwell, or which of Jack's teammates he should meet. The fights followed a predictable pattern: they usually happened when Jack was grouchy because of something work-related, and they almost always involved Bitty downplaying his own importance in Jack's life or his right to Jack's time, attention, or money._

_They argued, but they always resolved it, and they never argued about the exact same thing twice, so at least they seemed to be learning from it. It was maybe more stressful than they'd anticipated, but they knew that most of that would go away once the added pressure of Bitty's injury was gone. This was just something they needed to get through._

_The worst was the day that the media finally noticed Bitty's presence. Honestly, Jack thought it had gone as well as it possibly could. He had a Falconers charity event to support a local animal shelter, and a couple of local news teams were there to get some footage of hockey players with cuddly animals. It was a pretty relaxed atmosphere, and the reporters were chatting up some of the players even when the cameras weren't rolling._

_"So, I gotta ask." The reporter with long blonde hair—Samantha? Stephanie? From Channel 12?—had been flirting with Jack since she caught him, despite what he thought was his clear lack of interest, and now that she was done getting her soundbite from him she didn't seem to be in a rush to move on. "Who's the guy with the broken leg?"_

_Jack froze in the middle of scratching a shaggy mutt behind the ears. His heart raced, but she sounded so casual that he didn't quite go into a full panic just yet. "Excuse me?"_

_"On Twitter, people have been talking about seeing you around town with some guy with a broken leg all the time, and there are some pics of him going in and out of your building on his own. People were thinking maybe he's your roommate or something? But why would the Falcs' leading scorer need to get a roommate halfway through the season? My reporter senses were just tingling, making me think there's got to be more to this story than some guy you found on Craigslist to share rent."_

_She still sounded casual and friendly, even flirtatious. Jack took a steadying breath before he replied, trying to keep his face pleasantly neutral._

_"Oh, yeah, he's a friend of mine from Samwell, we were teammates there. He was in a car accident a couple months ago, so he had to withdraw for the semester, and the team housing in Samwell has stairs he can't get up. My building has an elevator, so I offered to let him stay with me until he's healed up."_

_As he spoke, the reporter's jaw slowly dropped, making his stomach twist uncomfortably. Was he grinning too stupidly? Was it obvious that Bitty wasn't just his friend?_

_"Oh my god," she said as soon as he was done, "that is the sweetest thing!" Jack tried not to make his relieved sigh obvious. "Jack, I'm sorry, but can we get that on camera? I think our viewers would love to know what a caring, devoted friend you are."_

_"Uh." Jack blinked at the cameraman that Samantha-or-Stephanie was already motioning back over to them. "I don't know if he really wants the whole world to hear about his medical problems."_

_She'd already switched back from a flirtatious smile to a camera-ready one, and Jack's stomach dropped as he realized he wasn't going to get out of this without looking like a massive asshole._

_"We won't mention his name—I won't even ask you!—and honestly, it's kind of obvious to anyone with eyes what his medical problem is. It's not like he broke his leg doing anything shady, nobody's going to be ashamed of a car accident." Her face dropped. "Oh, wait, he wasn't drunk or something, was he?"_

_Jack's eyes went wide. "No! Dear god, no! The other driver was texting!"_

_"Oh, then, this'll be great—trust me, I've got a nose for these kind of human-interest stories, people will eat it up. Nothing but positive press for either of you."_

_And before Jack could register another complaint, the cameraman was giving her a countdown on his fingers and she was back in full reporter mode._

_"Falconers star forward Jack Zimmermann may be here to support his furry friends, but it turns out he's a supportive friend in his everyday life, too. If you've been following Jack's hashtag on Twitter, you've seen a lot of questions about a man with what appears to be a severely broken leg with whom Jack has been seen around town a lot lately. I've got the answers, and they'll show you a whole new side of this hockey phenom." She turned to Jack, and the camera followed her. "So Jack, who is this mystery man?"_

_Jack had been breathing deeply while she was talking, and now he swallowed and took one more breath. This might be his first time lying on camera about Bitty, but it surely wouldn't be the last; he'd better get used to it._

_"He's a friend of mine from Samwell. We were teammates there. He was in a car accident a couple months ago, so he had to withdraw for the semester, and the team housing in Samwell has stairs he can't get up. My building has an elevator, so I offered to let him stay with me until he's healed up." Shit. Would she notice he said the exact same thing, word-for-word, as the first time she'd asked? Was it too obvious that he'd memorized his answer beforehand?_

_"Your life as an NHL rookie has to be crazy, I'm not sure many other people would be so generous as to invite a former teammate to live with them during that kind of a time in your life."_

_She seemed to expect a reply from him, even though she hadn't asked him a question._

_"Um." Shit, he should have prepared more to say. He should have known that if this ever came up, they wouldn't let it go so easy. He finally shrugged. "It's not generosity, really. He's my friend. You help your friends when they're in need, right? He needed a place to stay with no stairs, I had a guest room."_

_She turned back to the camera. "If hockey players with dogs weren't enough to warm your heart, I'm sure it's all toasty by now. This is Samantha Crist, Fox 12 News."_

_He told Bitty about it as soon as he got home, still disgruntled by the whole experience, and to his dismay Bitty immediately started tearing up._

_"Oh, god, Jack, I'm so sorry, I should probably start sleeping at the Haus more—"_

_"What? No! She didn't question my story at all. Hell, she kept flirting with me afterward." He gave a forceful sigh, irritated anew at her lack of professionalism. "She even slipped me her fucking phone number as she was leaving."_

_"But there are photos of us! Of me! I wish I'd known, I stopped following anything to do with you on Twitter months ago, I mean, 90% of it was fine but the few idiots were just bad for my blood pressure. I shoulda been checking, if I'd known people were posting photos and asking about me I woulda been way more careful—"_

_"And what, never leave the house? That's not reasonable." He put his hands on Bitty's shoulders. "So they have pictures, now they have an explanation for them, it's_ fine _," he said firmly._

_"Jack!" Bitty looked up at him with wide eyes, like he just wasn't getting it. "They have photos of me, and your statement that I'm your teammate. It won't be that hard for them to find my name. What if they find my Twitter or my vlog? Oh, god, I should probably delete them—"_

_"What? Why?"_

_"If anyone finds out I'm gay, they're gonna start wondering about you!"_

_Jack scowled. "Last time I checked, straight people can have gay friends. No one's going to listen to a few idiots who think otherwise."_

_But Bitty was already carefully making his way to the bedroom, shaking his head. "You can't take that risk, Jack. It's one thing for people we trust to know, but once random people on the internet start making connections, they won't let it go. The last thing you need is for this to come out right now, while you're fighting for a playoff spot."_

_Jack followed him, confused. When Bitty pulled out a bag and started pulling clothes out of the dresser, he was suddenly closer to panic than he had been when the reporter had first asked about the guy with the broken leg._

_"Bits, what are you doing?" His tone was sharper than he'd meant it to be, and he tried to take a calming breath._

_"I should leave. I'll stay at the Haus for a while, I can handle stairs if I take it real slow, maybe I can even move back into my room. But it'll help if no more photos of us come out. People'll forget all about me, it'll be better that way." Bitty didn't look at Jack once while he was talking._

_Jack sat down on the edge of the bed, numb. Something about this felt off, felt_ wrong _. Bitty didn't say a word about leaving for good or breaking up, but the whole thing, the way he was acting and talking, had an air of finality about it that made Jack a little dizzy. Like something was slipping out of his grasp._

_"Please don't," he said quietly._

_Bitty chattered on, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. "And anyhow, you've been driving me to all these doctor's appointments when you're in town, you don't need all that extra work, with me gone you can focus on your hockey. Like you should be. I mean, I don't wanna sound ungrateful; thank you, for everything, obviously, but—"_

_"Stop!" It came out louder than Jack had intended, but he honestly wasn't sure he could handle what might come after "thank you for everything." At least it finally got Bitty to look up, startled. "What exactly are you saying, Bits? Are you—are you breaking up with me?"_

_Bitty opened his mouth, but just stood there for a moment, blinking at him. He finally shook his head, and Jack could breathe again. He sat down next to Jack on the bed._

_"No," he said softly, sounding stunned. He took Jack's hands in his. "Honey, no, I would never—I just thought—"_

_His face crumpled and he leaned in, burying his face in Jack's shoulder._

_"I'm just so tired of making your life harder and I just wanted to make it easier for once, Jack." Jack could hear the tears in Bitty's voice, and wrapped his arms around him. "I'm sorry, I didn't think how that sounded, I just…"_

_"The only thing that makes any of this easier,"Jack said softly, burying his nose in Bitty's hair, "is having you here with me. And when you're not here, the only thing that makes it easier is knowing you'll be back, and that someday you won't have to leave again. You're not a burden, mon lapin. We'll get through this."_

_And they had. Bitty's leg was healed by the end of April, and he moved back into his room at the Haus—he was clearly happy to be surrounded by his friends again, but almost as soon as he got there he was talking about getting back to Providence for the summer and looking for a job to keep him busy there._

_Jack wasn't as upset as he might have been when the Falconers were out of the playoffs in the second round, knowing that it meant he could go stay at the Haus himself and get an extra week with Bitty._

_As soon as Bitty was back in Providence, he started physical therapy with the Falconers' PT in earnest. His mood was significantly better over the summer—he could drive himself places, he had a job at a local bakery, and he was back on the ice, skating with Jack a few times a week, slowly gaining strength in his leg back. Overall, it was far less stressful than the spring had been. And by the time Bitty's season started, he wasn't quite back up to his usual speeds, but he was certainly doing well enough to play._

_It had been hard on both of them when it was time for Bitty to go back to Samwell for the fall, but Jack was amazed at how much their relationship had grown. He'd known back in December that it was solid, that it had a future, but by August they'd been through so much together, so many ups and downs, had to work through so many things—he had no doubts, by then, that they could get through anything. He couldn't wait until Bitty graduated so they could start their life together in earnest. The only question in his mind was what impact playoffs would have on exactly when he decided to propose._

 

"Well," Jack's father said, standing up. They'd gotten home a half an hour before and curled up with some cocoa in front of the fireplace. "I think it's bedtime for us. You boys don't stay up too late, now, or Moshe might not come."

Bitty looked at Jack with a raised eyebrow. Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. It would be a lot easier to explain it himself than to let his parents tell whatever overly-cutesy version they'd come up with.

"When I was seven, Hanukkah started on Christmas Eve, just like this year. So I decided that obviously, Santa must have at least one Jewish elf, and I came up with this whole mythology around Moshe the Hanukkah Elf and how whenever the holidays overlapped he would help Santa out with all of the boys and girls who celebrated both. Or something, I don't remember all the details—by the time they overlapped again, I was ten and didn't believe in Santa anymore, but I was still adding to the story and by the time I outgrew it it was ridiculously complicated."

"Jack." Bitty looked like he was barely containing his glee. "Jack, that is the most adorable thing I have ever heard in my whole, entire _life_. Did you write it all down somewhere?"

"No—" Jack started, but his mother interrupted him.

"He didn't, but I sure did. Oh, don't look so surprised, Jack, do you really think I was going to let something like _that_ slip away to the cloudy recesses of our memories?"

"Well I, for one, am making a note of that," Bitty said, "and as soon as you retire you are gonna clean all that up and start your second career as a children's book author."

Jack tried to act huffy, but the image of thirty-five-year-old Bitty pestering forty-year-old Jack to write a book (for their own kids?) left him too warm inside to be any good at it.

Finally, they said their goodnights. When Jack's mother hugged Bitty, it involved a whispered conversation that left Bitty blushing and Alicia beaming, and while Jack assumed it had something to do with Moshe, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. As they sat back down on the couch, Jack wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and pulled him close.

"Everyone loved you, just like I knew they would," he murmured into Bitty's ear.

"Well, they loved my hand pies, at the very least," Bitty said, but he was beaming.

"Not just your pies," Jack said, "Your baby-handling skills definitely endeared you to Angelica and David."

"Well, it's not like Ava was hard to handle," Bitty replied, rolling his eyes. "What a little angel."

"You're like the pied piper, everywhere we go every child we meet wants to be your best friend." Jack pressed a kiss to the top of Bitty's head. "You're going to make such a great dad someday, Bits."

Bitty nestled into Jack's embrace, playing with a button on Jack's shirt with one finger. When he looked up, he was chewing his lip nervously but had the same determined look in his eye that he'd always had when preparing to take a check during early-morning practice.

"So, um, I had a gift I wanted to give you tonight. I know we're doing gifts tomorrow, but y'know, today is kind of special. I mean, maybe it's perverse to do this on the anniversary of the day I got horribly mangled in a car accident—"

"The anniversary of the day you didn't die," Jack reminded him. "That's the important part."

"Right," Bitty said, his tense shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "And it's a day that, well, that changed both of our lives in a lot of ways, at least for a while there. Even now, I guess. I think we're both different people, in some ways, than we would've been without it. And I know our relationship is different than it would've been without me coming to stay with you, and dealing with all the stuff we had to deal with this year. I mean, obviously I think we'd still be together and we'd still be real happy and doing just fine, but I also think that having to go through all that and figure it all out together and have all the talks we did—and even the fights we had—it sorta… I think it made us stronger, y'know?"

Jack nodded. "I know. And I agree. Today's important for you, because you're alive, and it's important for _me_ , because you're alive, but it's also important for us, because it started a whole series of things that helped our relationship grow."

"Exactly," Bitty said. "And here we are. And I have… a gift for you. Well, I mean, I say gift, but I guess it's not much of a gift because I kinda need you to promise to do something for me before I can really give it to you, so it's not exactly a gift because I'm getting something out of this, too—"

"Bits," Jack cut in gently. "I don't want to sound like I'm demanding you give me my gift, but I can tell that if I let you keep going we'll be here all night. I don't know why you're so nervous, I'm sure I'll love whatever it is. What do you need me to do for you first?"

"Right. Um. Well. Okay." He got up and knelt down next to the gifts under the tree, digging around a little before grabbing something. Jack couldn't see what, though—it was tiny, small enough that Bitty could keep it completely hidden with his hands cupped around it. Jack's heart rate picked up a notch. This couldn't possibly be what he thought it was.

Bitty sat back down next to him, one leg folded under himself so he could face Jack more easily. "I know when we've talked about this sort of thing we always talked about it like it wasn't gonna happen til after I graduate, but the truth is, we've been through a lot more in a year and a half than a lot of couples deal with in five years, and I know we can get through just about anything together after that. And Jack, I love you so much and I want to be with you, I can't wait to move back in with you in May, for good this time, forever, so it just felt right to do this today, on a day when everything changed for us—"

He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. Jack had barely been breathing since Bitty sat back down; maybe that was why this whole thing felt a little bit unreal at the moment, a little like he was floating a few feet away from Bitty instead of pressed right up next to him. He'd imagined this moment so many times, but he'd never imagined it happening like this.

Bitty's mouth twitched into a shy, nervous smile. He gripped what was in his hands more tightly, pulling the top hand back to open the lid of the ring box hidden in between them. Inside were two black-and-silver metal bands, one noticeably larger than the other.

"Will you marry me?"

The question came out so quietly, and Jack was so enthralled by the sight of the rings, that he almost missed that Bitty'd asked it. He looked up, finally, from the rings to Bitty's face. His brain caught up with reality and a grin spread itself across his face—they were getting married. It was real, not just a someday hypothetical he'd been nursing in his head since the day he ran across campus to kiss Bitty for the first time.

He surged forward and pushed Bitty back against the arm of the couch with a deep, heartfelt kiss. Bitty lost no time in wrapping his arms around Jack's neck and his legs around Jack's waist, ring box still clutched in one hand behind Jack's head. Jack didn't know if it was the cocoa, the chocolate cream hand pies, or the ridiculous amount of gelt he knew Bitty had eaten over the course of the night—probably all three—but Bitty's mouth tasted overwhelmingly of chocolate. Of all the things for Jack to notice in that moment, it seemed like a ridiculous choice, but he found himself chasing the flavor and humming in pleasure nonetheless.

Finally, Bitty pushed him back, both of them breathless.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

Jack paused. "Did I skip that part?"

Bitty started laughing. "You did not say a damn word, Mr. Zimmermann!"

"Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you," Jack said, burrowing his face into the side of Bitty's neck in search of the sensitive spot he knew was waiting there. "I can't believe you beat me to it."

"Well, I—oh, gosh—Jack— _oh_ —" Bitty pushed at Jack's shoulders again, pulling him away from that spot he'd quickly found. "You are well aware that I can't think, let alone talk when you're doing that. I was going to say, I know we can't actually get married for a while yet, but I've just missed you so much the past few months. I love being back at the Haus, but sometimes all I can think about is moving back in with you and not having to worry about leaving again. I know it's silly, it's not like you can even wear the ring in public—"

"The rings!" Jack scrambled to sit up and pulled the ring box out of a sputtering Bitty's hands. He hadn't gotten a very good look at them before, in his haste to kiss his newly-minted fiancé, but now he pulled the larger one out to inspect it. It was mostly black metal, with thin bands of silver on either side. It was his wedding ring, that he would wear for the rest of his life, and it was perfect. "I want to wear it," he said slowly, an idea gelling in his mind as he spoke. "We can wear them on our right hands for now, and then change them to our left hands when we get married. Obviously I still can't wear it while I'm playing, but neither can you. We can wear them any other time, though."

Bitty reached over and plucked the smaller ring from the box, but he just held it up to look at it closely instead of putting it on.

"You sure? Someone might notice how your new ring looks mighty like a wedding band. And if anyone sees us in public together, they might notice our rings match."

Exactly how far they'd come in the past year was obvious in the tone of Bitty's voice, thoughtful instead of fearful. The way he raised an eyebrow, but his forehead didn't furrow so hard his eyebrows nearly met. He was still going to voice concerns when he had them, but he'd learned to trust Jack's assessment of the risks involved in their relationship, and to believe Jack when he said that it was worth it.

"I'm sure," Jack said, slipping the ring onto his own finger and admiring how well it fit. "I've gotten pretty good at deflecting, you know. We'll stick to our plan of keeping your name out of everything until you're out of Samwell, so you don't get any media mobbing you there, but once you're in Providence we weren't going to work very hard to hide anyhow, right?"

Jack wasn't planning to truly come out, to make a public statement about it, until they actually got married, but they'd already agreed on this. It would be impossible to hide the fact that Bitty was living with him—again, and this time perfectly able-bodied—and if they couldn't hide that, there wasn't much point to hiding anything else. They weren't exactly going to make out in public; they probably wouldn't even hold hands. But Bitty would sit with the WAGs at games, they'd go grocery shopping together, they'd eat out at romantic restaurants together. The media would eventually start asking questions, but that didn't mean Jack had to have answers for them.

Bitty grinned even as he bit his bottom lip. "Well, okay, then," he said as he slipped his own ring on. They sat there for a minute, holding their right hands up together and staring.

"My parents are going to go nuts when they find out," Jack eventually said. "They can't wait to officially claim you as their son-in-law."

He glanced at Bitty, and saw that he was blushing sheepishly. "Well," he said, "I am a proper Southern gentleman and all…"

Jack squinted at him. "What does that mean?"

"I asked them for their blessing, of course! Before you got to town last night." Since Bitty was spending the first half of his break in Georgia, they'd flown to Montreal separately.

"Is that why my mom was whispering to you and being all giggly when they went to bed?" Jack asked, eyes wide.

"Indeed it is," Bitty confirmed. "I hope you don't mind."

Jack laughed as he slid his arms around his fiancé (he was going to be using that word every chance he got, that was for sure). "I mean, it's a little weird that my parents knew I was getting engaged before I did, but I'm not mad or anything. As long as you didn't, like, start a group chat and tell everyone on the team but me or something."

"And deny you the chance to witness the moment Shitty finds out? I would never. I swear, baby, the only other person I told was my mama, and that was only 'cause I was so nervous the day I bought the rings a couple weeks ago."

"Well, you definitely had nothing to be nervous about," Jack said, starting to nibble his way down Bitty's neck again. "Now, let's go take advantage of the fact that my room is on the other end of this huge house from my parents' room. I'm pretty sure engagement sex is required at this point to seal the deal."

"Oh, is _that_ how it works," Bitty said archly—or as archly as he could when he was already breathing more heavily. "Well, I suppose if it's _required_ …"

 

-

 

It was three months before a reporter asked about the ring, which Jack had just put back on after a game.

"Oh, yeah, I got it for Christmas," Jack answered, nonchalant as anything, and the reporter let it drop.

 

Bitty graduated and moved in. The Falconers made it to the finals but lost to the Sharks in game six.

It was September when that same woman, Samantha from Channel 12, was covering another Falconers charity event.

This time, she wasn't casually flirtatious. Instead the looks she threw Jack's way before he talked to her were calculating, and he wasn't shocked when she jumped right in with the camera rolling.

"So your friend from Samwell with the broken leg, he seems to have healed up. People have seen the two of you around town again, and once again he appears to be living in your building. Any comment on that?"

"Yes, he graduated and moved in with me," Jack said blandly. "What does that have to do with the kids we're helping today?"

"People have also noticed that he's wearing a black ring very similar to the one you've taken to wearing."

Jack stared at her blankly. She hadn't asked him a question, after all.

After a moment she continued, professionalism barely masking her annoyance. "Why would the two of you be wearing matching rings?"

"Because we own them?" Jack wasn't much of an actor, but he had plenty of experience feigning confusion for annoying reporters. "I don't think these kids care about my jewelry."

She finally let it drop, and neither of her questions made it into the final cut on the night's news. In fact, none of her footage with Jack made it in, which was fine with him.

 

Bitty kept half an eye on the internet gossip, so they knew that there was a certain segment of the Falconers' fan base who were mildly obsessed with the mystery. Photos would pop up sometimes of the two of them at a fancy restaurant, their feet touching under the table, or at a drug store leaning close together to compare cold medicines. A shot of them at a farmer's market, Jack's arm around Bitty's shoulders, wound up on a blog with the caption "Jack Zimmermann and buddy peruse apples at the Hope Street Farmers Market." Bitty just snorted and said that if they were women they'd be calling them "gal pals."

Respectable journalists stayed out of it, though. For a while.

The season started and Bitty sat with Gabby St Martin, Andrea Robinson, and Carrie Snowden at most games. Finally, about halfway through the season, it got to be too much to resist.

"Jack, it looks like you've got someone sitting in the family section for you these days. Is that the same friend from Samwell who was living with you a couple of years ago?"

"Oh, yeah, we were teammates."

"Why is he at all your home games this season?"

Jack shrugged. "He's living with me. Again. His leg isn't broken this time. Do you have any questions about hockey?"

 

The reporters still tended to avoid personal questions, but every once in a while one would give in to temptation.

"I heard you got that ring for Christmas last year. Who gave it to you?"

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He'd been asked about the ring a few times and sort of couldn't believe it was still an item of interest over a year later, though this was the first time anyone had asked this particular question.

"My fiancé." He kept his face and tone as bored as they ever were during these post-game interviews. The reporter who'd asked the question, along with anyone within earshot who wasn't a Falconer, went silent.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Jack took the opportunity to stand up and head toward the door.

"Thanks for your questions," he said as he left, and didn't look back. He ignored any more questions thrown at his retreating form, but he did hear one reporter, desperate for a bigger scoop, corner Tater.

"Did you know Jack Zimmermann was engaged?"

"Of course."

"Who is he engaged to?"

"His fiancé. You have more hockey questions?"

 

As the planning for their August wedding continued, Bitty found himself more and more often the subject of local wannabe-paparazzi or just random passerby with cell phone cameras, all of whom seemed to think they were being sneaky. Occasionally he'd get questions thrown at him, which he sometimes answered if he was feeling cheeky.

 

"Excuse me, can I ask what your relationship with Jack Zimmermann is?"

"I suppose you can, it's a free country."

"… So, what is your relationship with Jack Zimmermann?"

"It's fine, thanks."

 

"Eric Bittle?"

"Yes?"

"You played with Jack Zimmermann at Samwell, correct?"

"I did."

"And now you live with him?"

"I do."

"Why are you wearing matching rings?"

"We both have excellent taste."

"Didn't his fiancé give him that ring?"

"Yes, his fiancé has excellent taste. It was nice talking to you, bye!"

 

"Are you engaged to Jack Zimmermann?"

"Well, now, bless your heart, that is quite a question, isn't it? You know, that's the kind of question that used to get my Aunt Judy in trouble back in high school. I wasn't there, of course, but I've heard the stories all my life, and you just would not believe the things she would ask her poor teachers! Once she asked her algebra teacher—or was it geometry? I'm no good at math, of course, I'm not even sure what the difference between algebra and geometry is! I did pass calculus at Samwell, but only by the skin of my teeth, I'm lucky I didn't need much math for my major. Anyhow, Aunt Judy asked her math teacher, algebra or geometry, one'a the two, it don't make no nevermind, but she asked her math teacher why she wasn't married yet at her age! Can you imagine asking someone such a rude question? You don't just go up to someone and ask about their personal life like it's any of your business. Well, to make things worse, her teacher was only about twenty-five, so as you can imagine that got Judy sent straight to the principal's office. From what I hear, she spent half her time in the principal's office, probably shoulda paid the poor man rent. Anyhow, look at me, rattling on when I'm sure you've got places to be. You have a good day, now!"

 

They made it to the end of the season, when the Falconers lost their conference finals. Jack was still in a sour mood when they cleaned out their lockers and did their exit interviews two days later, but he was glad he wouldn't have to deal with this again until after he was married. He and Bitty had talked it over and decided that this was probably their best chance to get some semblance of peace over the summer.

"We'll see how the draft shakes out, but I think we'll be in a really good position for another shot at the playoffs next season. There are a few things that really gelled for us as a team this season and we'll be able to capitalize on those strengths next year."

"Any big plans for the off-season, Jack?"

"I'm getting married in August, that's the main thing. A lot of wedding planning up until then, I guess." He gave them a small, self-deprecating smile. "My fiancé has been handling most of it, but he's told me that now that we're not playing anymore I'm going to have to start pulling my weight."

The reporters got eerily quiet, the way they had the first time he'd dropped the word fiancé. Even with the lights in his eyes, he could see them looking at each other uneasily, wondering if he'd really just said that and who was going to dare to ask for clarification.

"Where are you… going for your honeymoon?" someone finally asked hesitantly, sounding like she wasn't sure if she was asking the right question or not.

"France," he replied immediately. "Mostly Paris, but we'll spend some time in the south, too, by the sea. Eric's never been to Europe, and of course I speak the language, so it seemed like an obvious choice."

 _That_ seemed to wake them back up from their stupor.

"Eric?" "Did you say your fiancé's name is Eric?" "Is this Eric Bittle, your former teammate who's been living with you on and off for two years now?" "Jack, did you just confirm that you're marrying a man?" "What does your father think of this?" "Are you gay, Jack?" "How long have you been dating a man?" "Do your teammates know?"

Jack just raised an annoyed eyebrow and waited for the furor to calm down. While he waited, he ran through the questions he'd managed to make out and decided which ones to actually answer.

"Yes, Eric Bittle. He gets along disturbingly well with my dad; my mom, too, for that matter." That got a bit of a laugh, a rarity during Jack's interviews. "You know very well that my teammates know; you've seen him at games and other events and you've asked them about him. We've been together for three years, we're very happy, and we hope you'll respect our privacy. Thanks for your questions."

He made it out into the hallway, additional questions being shouted at his back the entire way, to find Bitty there waiting for him. Bitty immediately threw his arms around Jack, whose hands were trembling as he returned the embrace. They stood there for a long time, Jack breathing deeply while Bitty whispered encouragement into his ear, telling Jack how much he loved him and how proud of him he was, how proud his parents would be, how happy all their friends were for them. Reminding him of all the people who actually mattered, unlike those reporters or any of the millions of people he'd never met who would have an opinion about their relationship.

They'd fought for this. So many times, in so many ways, they'd had to face down someone or something that tried to destroy or destabilize what they had, and this wouldn't be the end of that. But it meant that whatever the media, the fans, the total strangers on the street or the internet had to throw at them, they had practice. They knew what it meant to come together against threats both internal and external, to hold onto what they've built and have it come out stronger. Yes, this was a little intimidating, but in the end Jack was proud to show the world that.

Jack finally drew back so he could look down at his fiancé, their arms still around each other. He was vaguely aware that there were people taking photos—had been since he made it out of the press room—but it didn't matter anymore.

He bent down and kissed Bitty gently, for the first time in public. It was a short, chaste kiss, but Jack was sure it would be plastered all over the internet within seconds.

"I love you," he murmured, too quiet for the press with their recorders to hear.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," Bitty replied, just as softly. Then just a touch louder, "Let's get home and leave these vultures to pick at someone else's corpse."

Jack nodded, then slipped his hand down Bitty's arm to twine their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope this ending made up for the pain I inflicted on you all in the first chapter. :)

**Author's Note:**

> _Braced myself for the goodbye,_   
>  _'Cause that's all I've ever known_   
>  _Then, you took me by surprise_   
>  _You said, "I'll never leave you alone..."_
> 
> _...You are the best thing that's ever been mine._
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com). I made a pretty post for this fic [here!](https://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com/post/161674140824/braced-myself-a-zimbits-hurtcomfort-fic-24984)


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